LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



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Shelf .,.E.2_.S*7 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



SONGS 

CHIEFLY FROM THE GERMAN 



13g Bishop &paltiing. 



Education and the Higher Life. 

icmo. $1.00. 
Things of the Mind. nmo. $1.00. 
Means and Ends of Education. 

i2mo. #1.00. 

Songs : chiefly from the German. 
nmo. Gilt top. $1.25. 



A. C. McCLURG AND CO. 
Chicago. 



SONGS 



CHIEFLY FROM THE GERMAN 

--?■•■" 



Ml. 



BY 

J. L.* SPALDING 

Bishop of Peoria 



Hast thou something? sell it to me, 
I'll pay thee what is right; 
Art thou something? Oh then let us 
Make interchange of soul. 

Schiller. 

Who loveth not true poetry 
Barbarian is, who'er he be. 

Goethe. 



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CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY 

1896 



1 i5ia 










S-rjUta 



Copyright 
By A. C. McClurg and Co. 

A.D. 1895 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

PEACE 9 

HOW THE CHILDREN READ IO 

ON HIS WIFE'S DEATH 12 

SWEET BABY MINE, SLEEP NOW I 3 

THE GYPSY QUEEN I 5 

DEATH 1 6 

THE SUNNY LEGEND OF HAPPINESS . . . . I 8 

I CANNOT SEE THEE, GENTLEST BIRD . . . . 20 

THE ANGEL OF SLEEP 2 1 

FAIR EVENING COMES AGAIN 2^ 

MOST HAVE I LOVED FROM LOFTY TOWER . . 2\ 

DECOY BIRD 25 

THE WEARIEST HOUR 26 

WHITHER? 28 

ALL SAD AND ALL ALONE 29 

WHEREFORE ? 3 I 

THE FAMILY BIBLE 33 

BEDOUIN LIFE 36 

OH, LOVE SO LONG AS THOU CANST LOVE . . 38 

THE EMIGRANTS 40 

3 



Contents 

PAGE 
HIGH ON MOUNT LEBANON, HARD BY A SPRING 42 

HOW FAIR ARE YE, O FRESH YOUNG GIRLS . 
WHERE'ER A HEART WITH TRUE LOVE GLOWS 

YEARNING 

YE UNBELIEVERS, COME, LOOK ON THE SPRING 

WITH RUNNING TIME I HASTEN, TOO 

CEASE MOANING ; QUIT THY IDLE LIFE 

WHAT WE AYE LOVE, AYE WITH US WILL ABIDE 

OF PUREST JOY HE DRINKS HIS FILL . 

I LOVE TO WALK THE RISING MOON TO MEET 

GIVE ME BUT THE FOAM OF THE LIGHT WINE 

ONCE AS I ROSE AT BREAK OF DAY . 

THE STARS 

NOW HILL AND DALE OUTBLOOM AGAIN . 

AH ! IT IS LONG SINCE I HAVE SUNG . 

NOW WILL I HUSH EACH PLAINT AND SIGH 

IN WOODS, WHEN THE SUN IS SHINING BRIGHT 

SO LONG THROUGH VALES AND MOUNTAINS HIGH 

THE POET SITS WITH MAGIC WAND 

THE LILY BLOOMS ALL FAIR 

A POET BORN 

HAPPY THOUGHTS .... 
THE BITTER WORLD* S SORE FRET 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE . 
THIS IS THE DARKSOME MYSTERY 
WITH DISTANT DYING THUNDER TONE 
DEEP DARKNESS, LIKE AN INKY VEIL . 

4 



Contain 

PAGE 

LIKE A FAIR MAIDEN BLISS IS COY .... J J 

SONG OF THE SPINNING WHEEL jS 

DEEPEST STILLNESS ON THE WATER .... 80 

THROUGH WOODS I WENT 8 1 

DELIGHTFUL DAYS 8 2 

PEACE 84 

days that are dead 85 

what write the waves 86 

a freeborn people heard in ancient times sj 

beside a deep wood lies 88 

ah ! nowhere can i long abide .... 89 

the new tannhauser 90 

fall fast, o pattering rain, fall fast . 92 

death's purifying power 94 

the graveyard by the sea 96 

far distant i behold 97 

of azra's tribe 98 

the loreley 99 

we sat close to the fisher's door . . . ioi 

the ocean gleamed like molten gold . . io3 

joy is a gay, light-hearted maid . . . 1 04 

the fir-tree and the palm io5 

music of spring i06 

in beautifullest month of may . . . . ioj 

hope's crown 108 

when i pass by thy house io9 

love's SOLACE I IO 

5 



contents 

PAGE 

SACRED BEAUTY Ill 

IF THE LITTLE FLOWERS KNEW 112 

UPON THE WINGS OF SONG I I 3 

THE DEWDROP AND THE WAVE I 1 4 

HEARTS MUST BLEED ERE THEY CAN DIE . . I I 5 

FRIENDS OF MINE, UPHANG WHEN I AM DEAD \\J 

FLOWN AWAY I I 8 

MY SOUL, THOU FLOATEST FAR I 1 9 

LAURELLA 121 

THE BROOK 122 

SONGS OF THE DYING I 23 

THE PLOUGHMAN SITS IN HIS CABIN'S QUIET SHADE I 27 

1 STAND UPON THE SHORE WITH THEE, MY CHILD I 29 
ONCE WHILE I STOOD WATCHING THE BILLOWY SEA I 3 2 

NIGHT TO OCEAN I33 

FAIR MAIDEN, LOVE IS LIKE A MIRROR BRIGHT 1 36 

IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 1 37 

AGE AND LOVE I 38 

NOT EVERY DAY DOTH THE SUN SHINE . . . 1 39 

IN A DARK GLEN I LAY 1 4O 

THE DOCTOR'S WALK I4I 

A BATTLE HYMN 1 42 

LOVE BUILT HIMSELF, THE FOOLISH CHILD . . 1 44 

EARLY GRAVES 1 45 

IN ETERNITY 1 46 

IF ALL WERE SWEET AND FAIR 1 47 

CONTENTMENT I 48 

6 



Contents 

PAGE 
FAIR HESPERUS, 'MID PALEST LIGHT . . . I 50 

THE HOUR OF PITY, MERCY' S HOUR 

LAYS OF MINE WIND-BLOWN 

THE BLACK DEATH 

1 AM CONTENT TO LIVE WITHOUT ALL FAME . 
where'er SWIFT THOUGHT CAN FLY 
DREAMING I WANDER THROUGH THE BOWERS OF 

SPRING 

THE FALL OF THE LEAVES 

A LITTLE PINE SOMEWHERE 

A SONG, A SONG 

TO WHOM ALL PAIN IS LIFE AND LIFE ALL PAIN 
I FAIN WOULD KEEP MYSELF ALL FREE . 

woman's LOVE 

SUNDAY MORNING 

ALL THINGS ARE NOW AT REST 

THE LOST SONG 

SEEK YE FOR TREASURES RICH AND RARE ? . 
WHEN LENGTHENING SHADOWS FALL 
FULL MANY A SONG I SING . 

NOT FOR THEE ALONE 

A WISH 

REST AT HOxME 

WHEN MODEST EVE 

WHEN EVENING SOFTLY STEALS I FLEE THE NOISY 

TOWN 

THE MIGHT OF FREEDOM 

7 



Contents 

PAGE 

a child, a stranger and astray. . . . i 88 

in life's fresh early morn of may . . . 190 

to quiet vale where shepherds stay . . i 92 

much do men speak and much do they dream 1 94 

ah! from the depths of this dark vale . 1 95 

a wedding ring 1 97 

a blind father to his child 1 98 

nothing abides 200 

o nature, pure and fair 201 

MY CATS 20 2 

death's warning. . 204 

bury thy dearest love 205 

mother and child 206 

who loves not woman, wine, and song . 2o7 

the pilgrim of rest 208 

though tear-bedewed thy pillow be . . 209 

the chapel stands high on the hill . . 2io 

the shepherd's sunday song 211 

a child's death 212 

a mother's heart 213 

vain effort 2i4 

sublime folly 2 1 5 



SONGS 

CHIEFLY FROM THE GERMAN 



PEACE 



"IVTOW storms and clouds have died away, 
• And on the mountains sleeps the snow; 

All bathed in light of golden day 

The whole world rests — forget thy woe. 

In heaven and on the earth is peace ; 

In thy heart, too, let trouble cease. 

The village bells send forth sweet sound, 
And in the meadows bright dew lies ; 

With Sabbath stillness earth is crowned, 
And not a cloud obscures the skies. 

In heaven and on the earth is peace ; 

In thy heart, too, let trouble cease. 

Make no complaint, whate'er thy pain ; 

Others have borne far worse than thine ; 
Brave strugglers only victory gain, 

And know the rest which is divine. 
In heaven and on the earth is peace ; 
In thy heart, too, let trouble cease. 

BODENSTEDT. 

9 



HOW THE CHILDREN READ 

T_T AVE you not seen — but no, you have not seen, 

A A Yet pity 't is, for he is fair to see — 

My little blue-eyed boy, just three years old, 

When he his father's books or letters reads ? 

How understandingly he takes the thing 

And follows with his finger 'long the lines, 

Uttering the while his little store of words, — 

Papa, mamma, and baby boy is good, — 

Speaking with modulation true and sweet, 

And all intent upon his childish task, 

Though not a letter of the whole he knows ; 

And we, his parents, laugh, nor stint our praise, 

Saying how prettily our baby reads ; 

Then he looks up with glee, self-satisfied. 

The lesson often gives me room for thought : 

Upon the seat beside my blue-eyed boy 

I see a throng of men full-grown and wise, 

Who with most solemn air intently pore 

On many thousand books they hold in hand. 

Huge volumes and the lesser all are there, 

Not merely fables and the light romance ; 

But rather weighty tomes of matter deep 



How the Children Read 

They con : the book of art and science, too, 
And human history, and greater still, 
That mighty volume shut with iron clasp, 
Upon whose titlepage is written Nature. 
They read all earnestly and in loud voice, 
And follow with the ringer every line — 
The greater — while the lesser give due heed. 
But many a book I fear is upside down, 
The letters standing all upon their heads. 
And the Great Father — so at least I think — 
Looks smilingly upon this baby world 
And gently strokes so many a little head, 
As if to say, " How well the child doth read," 
But whispers to Himself, " Wait yet awhile, 
And I will take thee on my knee, and thou 
Shalt learn of Me quite other lessons then." 

Blomberg. 



ON HIS WIFE'S DEATH 

TTOW bleak and waste, how bitter chill and drear, 
Is grown the world for me, through which 
erewhile 
I walked with gladness round me mile on mile, 
For she, where'er I moved, was always near. 

A breath has taken all that made life dear, 

Darkened her eye, and frozen her sweet smile, 
And hushed the silvery tones which could beguile 

Each hour with laughter and with music's cheer. 

Vain dream, that she at close of my brief day 
Should soothe my pain and gently lull to sleep, 

Holding Love's lamp along the downward way ! 
At least, O lost one, let thy spirit keep 

Close to my heart while I on earth must stay, 
Waiting to pass to thee across the deep. 

Burger. 



SWEET BABY MINE, SLEEP NOW 

QWEET baby mine, sleep now ; 

Soft shines the moon. 
Why, baby, weepest thou ? 

Sleep, send thy boon. 

All gently sleep now flies 

On noiseless wing. 
Hush, then, my sweet, thy cries, 

And I will sing. 

The moon knows pure delight 

When her white beams 
Fall from the plumes of night 

On childhood's dreams. 

She loves all children well, 

But girls the best, 
And pours her holiest spell 

On maiden breast. 

She gives them golden hair, 

And deep blue eyes, 
And makes them pure and fair 

As her own skies. 



Sweet Baby Mine, Sleep Now 

When I on mother's breast, 

A baby lay, 
The moonbeams me caressed 

With their mild ray ; 

And she full oft would sing, 

' ' Shine, moonbeams, shine, 
And all thy beauties bring 

For baby mine." 

And then the moon would smile 

As though she heard, 
And listened all the while 

Her lips were stirred. 

Ah ! still I seem to see 

Those blessed nights, 
And, lost in revery, 

Taste old delights. 

Upon my bridal crown, 

With her calm eyes 
She looked approval down 

From out the skies. 

Sweet baby mine, sleep now, 

Soft shines the moon. 

Why, baby, weepest thou ? 

Sleep, send thy boon. 

Claudius. 
14 



THE GYPSY QUEEN 

A TREMBLE are the wooden walls, 
The trumpets shrilly blow ; 
The sand is smoothed, the sharp whip calls, 
Make ready for the show. 

Here comes upon her coal-black steed 

A woman of bold mien, 
Brown arms and neck of covering freed, 

And bare her feet are seen. 

The castanets quick music make ; 

Outdrones the tambourine ; 
And, like a statue grown awake, 

Dances the Gypsy Queen. 

The dance is done — at end the show ; 

She deftly glides to earth, 
And lightly springs, with a heigh-ho, 

Into her wooden berth. 

She squats on straw and satin there, 

And lays her cards around ; 
Nor sad nor glad — she does n't care, 
But whips her horse and hound. 

Ada Christen. 
15 



DEATH 

I" SAT with my old nurse, so long ago, 

In a great dreary house, — we two alone ; 
The glimmering fire burned with a feeble glow, 
And round about November winds made moan, 

Sighing like ghosts through the high, naked trees, 
Whose boughs in sorrow seemed to bend and weep ; 

The sobbing rain was dank with foul disease, 
And earth in withered leaves was covered deep. 

The throsde in his cage flew to and fro; 

The clock stood still, the weights had all run down ; 
The lamp went out ; the hearth-fire, sinking low, 

Threw shadows on the walls which made them frown. 

In silence deep I listened and with dread, 

While to my nurse, scarce breathing, fast I clung ; 

She prayed in whispers, bending low her head, 
Until the flame was lost ashes among. 
16 



Death 

Then the charred sticks she lifted one by one, 

And from the last alone a feeble spark 
Leaped crackling forth, till quick its course being run, 

Deep gloom enveloped us and all was dark. 

"My child," she said, "see death's true image here." 

She has herself long since gone to her rest, 

Nor have I seen that house in many a year ; 

But on my soul the picture is impressed. 

Dahn. 



17 



THE SUNNY LEGEND OF 
HAPPINESS 

r I ^HEY are alone ; for the mother comes 

At nightfall only from the field. 
The linden's leaves rustle without, 
And grandmother tells the quiet child 
The sunny legend of happiness. 

She tells of a king's son who was once 
By an angry, wicked fay bewitched ; 
Of a castle on a rock-bound coast, 
Of the wild play of the raging waves, 
And of a fisher's hut by the sea. 

Year after year the prince still mourned ; 

A serpent now in mouldy earth, 

He winds himself in golden chains ; 

A kiss alone can set him free, 

A kiss from a rosy mouth and pure. 

The fisher's daughter's fair to see, 
And brave as she was beautiful, 
Asunder broke the golden chains, 
And her the prince, himself again, 
Chose for his lady and his queen. 



The Sunny Legend of Happiness 

Grandmother ceased; the spinning-wheel 
Whirred on; the maiden sat spell-bound; 
Her folded hands lay on her breast, 
And her great eyes in wonder fixed 
Stared at the wide and vacant wall. 

"How noble, grandmother, how fair! 
O grandmother, were it but true, 
Myself I should not be afraid, 
But glad the serpent would embrace 
Despite the shudder and death's dread. 

"Why did men feign a thing so high, 

If it on earth never befell ? 

Oh, in my soul is sadness deep 

As though I stood in the church-yard, 

Stood close by my dear father's grave." 

"Be strong, O trembling child, be strong ; 
Wipe from thine eyes the welling tears ; 
For all of us it has deceived, 
To all of us has spoken false, 
The sunny legend of happiness." 



Eckstein. 



19 



1 



I CANNOT SEE THEE, GENTLEST 
BIRD 

T CANNOT see thee, gentlest bird, 

Sitting 'mid blossoms white, 
But all my inmost heart is stirred 
With music's pure delight. 

When dewy morning from the hills 

Looks down their billowy sides, 
Thy throat with maddest joy upthrills — 

Ah ! Time so swiftly glides. 

So soon the leaves shall withered lie 

On the damp wintry clay ; 
So soon the bright-eyed flowers shall die 

With autumn's sad decay ; 

The clear, cool brook be frozen o'er, 

And life sink in death's night : 
Seek quick, O bird, some warmer shore, 

For rapid is Time's flight. 

VON ElCHENDORFF. 



THE ANGEL OF SLEEP 

r "T*HE stars gleam in the heavenly blue, 

Their rays kiss the fresh-fallen dew ; 
The flowers drink the fragrant air 
And bend in sleep their heads so fair ; 
All motionless the trees stand now, 
And not a breath stirs in the bough, 
While hazy mist in the dim light 
Brings many a shadowy form to sight. 
On all a solemn stillness lies 
As though life closed for aye its eyes. 
No sound is heard in earth or sky, 
Save where the brook goes murmuring by, 
Running its course through meadows green 
The silent slumberous banks between ; 
The winds whisper as in a dream 
Soft lullaby to the dark stream, 
Where, as its waves so lightly break, 
The silvery moonbeams gently shake. 
Doubtless, in this most quiet hour 
Some angel comes with heavenly power, 
To shut all weary eyes in sleep, 



The Angel of Sleep 

To pour on souls his blessings deep, 
And, though the wound he may not heal, 
Its smart to make us cease to feel. 
O angel Sleep, God's holy guest, 
Send us this night pure, soothing rest, 
And in sweet dreams bring back again 
The loved who long in graves have lain ! 

Falkland. 



FAIR EVENING COMES AGAIN 

T^AIR Evening comes again ; 
And over wold and field 
Peace falls like misty rain, 

While earth in sleep is sealed. 

All save the brook alone, 

Which knows nor peace nor rest, 

But flows with murmurous tone, 
By fate still onward pressed. 

To it no evening brings 

The balm of sweet repose ; 
No soft voice gently sings 

A song to lull its woes. 

Such, too, thy lot, my heart ; 

In all thy toil and quest 
God only can impart 

The blessing of true rest. 

Fallersleben. 



23 



MOST HAVE I LOVED FROM 
LOFTY TOWER 

TV /TOST have I loved from lofty tower 

To look abroad upon the earth 
And shout amid the quivering shower 
Of ringing chimes in wildest mirth; 
And now descended to the ground, 

My heart still throbs with upward beat, 
And so by you is foolish found 

Who never were on that high seat. 

Fischer. 



24 



DECOY BIRD 

HPHE children shout ; the cuckoo cries, 

Because the young Spring smiles. 
Look, comrade, how the deep blue skies 
Invite to frolic wiles. 

Father says to daughter sweet, 
Who is that I hear thee greet ? 
Round about the green hedge-row 
Walking still I see him go. 

Hat upon his head is pressed; 
Like a Mayday he is dressed, 
Looking here and looking there, 
Finding nothing anywhere. 

I will go myself and see 
What his trouble well may be ; 
But he slips like bird away 

Ere the father sees him, 
Taking daughter's heart, they say, 

Thinking that would please him. 



Fischer. 



2 5 



THE WEARIEST HOUR 

TN the afternoon at three o'clock, 

The weariest hour sounds; 
Its stroke, a paralytic shock, 

Through moveless air resounds. 

The sweltering world all speechless lies, 

As mute as is the grave ; 
The sun alone from burning skies 

Outpours his glowing wave. 

Like winds which from the desert blow, 
His breath brings listlessness, 

And takes from life its healthful glow, 
Leaving but weariness. 

The songs of birds have died away ; 

The shrill cicadas, too, 
Have ceased to sing their tuneless lay, 

And doves have ceased to coo. 
26 



The Weariest Hour 

The lazy wave, with its moist lip, 

Scarce wets the blistered shore ; 
All motionless the anchored ship 

Dreams of the ocean's roar. 

The mountain, like a giant slain, 

Is hushed in silence deep ; 
The thoughts and hopes which thrill man's brain 

Have fallen fast asleep. 

No sound, no stir, no whispered breath, 

No faintest sign of life, — 

As though Earth's spirit, sunk in death, 

Had given o'er the strife. 

Fischer. 



27 



WHITHER ? 

TD UT yesterday a rill, 

Which, like a silver thread, 
Winds round some flowery hill; 

Lo ! now in wider bed, 
A brook that gayly sings, 
And its bright water flings. 

But yesterday a child, 
Playing in soft sunshine, 

Close to a mother mild ; 
To-day a maiden fine, 

Dressed like a blooming bride, 

In all her beauty's pride. 

Ah, whither ? Who can see ? 

Or whose the prize some day ? 
Ask of the yellow bee 

Where winds his airy way ; 
Ask Hope, with upturned eyes, 
Where long-lost Eden lies. 



Fischer. 



28 



ALL SAD AND ALL ALONE 

A LL sad and all alone, 
■^ Where'er I be, 
Age, like a heavy stone, 
Oppresses me. 

My joys have flown away, 

Love and sweet song ; 
Friends wont with me to stay 

Are dead so long. 

The past is full of sorrow 

For loved ones gone ; 
When I look to the morrow, 

I see no dawn. 

Yet murmur not, — be brave ; 

Thou hast well done. 
Like course of fleeting wave, 

Man's race is run. 
29 



All Sad and All Alone 

Behold the happy bird 

That sings and flies ; 
But when night's wings are stirred, 

His music dies. 

He sleeps in sheltering tree, 

Beneath the sky, 
Dreaming, from trouble free, 

While zephyrs sigh. 

At break of the new day, 

On the bare ground 
He lies, — hushed his sweet lay, 

His rest profound. 

His brothers still will sing 

On the green bough ; 
Their song will cease to ring. 

Why grievest thou ? 

Frankle. 



30 



WHEREFORE ? 

/"~"\NCE we did love, — one fresh spring day, 
^~^ So far away ! 
As fair and fleeting was the dream 
As foam on stream. 

But once together we did rest 

On mountain crest ; 
And once I touched thy honey lips 

Like bee that sips. 

Ah ! many years have hurried by ; 

And you and I, 
Driven apart, never again 

Have met since then. 

Calmly I heard, 'mid wanderings wide, 

Thou wast a bride ; 
But something now lays hold on me, 

And I think of thee. 



Wherefore? 

Wherefore ? I sit where bright lights shine, 

And sparkling wine : 
What has brought back, this wintry night, 

Thy face to sight ? 

Of that spring day, perchance art thou 

Dreaming e'en now ; 

Or — frightful thought ! — has death's keen dart 

Pierced thy sweet heart? 

Franzos. 



3* 



THE FAMILY BIBLE 

HPHOU friend from childhood's spring, 

Dear old brown folio, 
What thoughts to me dost bring 

From the sweet long ago ! 
Thou, whose pictorial world 

To my delighted eyes 
The wonders all unfurled 

Of the far eastern skies. 

Thou openedst for me 

The gates of that fair zone, 
And badst me look and see 

What glories there are shown, — 
New worlds where palm-trees stand, 

And camels walk between, 
Where 'mid the desert's sand 

Bright oases are seen. 

Thou broughtest to me near 

The heroes great and wise, 
Whom each inspired seer 

Has painted for our eyes, 

33 c 



The Family Bible 

With many a gentle maid 
Of whom the Bible tells, 

Standing in palm-tree shade 
By Oriental wells. 

The patriarchal life 

So simple and so pure, 
Where angels quell all strife 

And families endure; 
The herds to water led, — 

All this before me shone, 
When with low-bended head 

I gazed thy pages on. 

I seem to see thee still 

There open on the chair; 
Again my eyes upfill 

Conning thy pictures rare. 
Again I am a boy ; 

The years have ceased to be, 
And glad fresh-hearted joy 

Returns once more for me. 

My mother still sits nigh 
With patient face and mild, 

And makes some soft reply 
To questions of her child, 
34 



The Family Bible 

Giving the imaged scene 

A meaning high and plain, 
While father, with calm mien, 

Content looks on us twain. 

O Time, how fierce thy rage, 

How cruel thou dost seem ! 
The Bible's pictured page, 

Believing eyes' fresh gleam, 
My parents, both so dear, 

The pure, contented mind, 

Childhood's sweet joy and cheer, 

I nevermore shall find. 

Freiligrath. 



35 



BEDOUIN LIFE 

^\ ^\ TERE I exiled from Mecca's gates, 

Or born on Yemen's burning sand 
Or where lone Sinai silent waits, 

The sword had swung this strong right hand ; 

Or mounted on high-mettled steed 
I had fled o'er Jethro's flaming plain ; 

Or while my herds in peace did feed, 
In shade of burning bush had lain ; 

Or with my tribe at even-fall, 

In quick-stretched and quick-folded tent, 
Afire at inspiration's call, 

My voice to martial strains had lent. 

Then on my words raptured had hung 

The people all of the whole land, 
Swayed by the power of music's tongue, 

And magic of the poet's wand. 

In sooth, my hearers nomads are, 

Who feel the desert's power and charm, 

And when they see Simoon afar, 

Prostrate, that it may pass nor harm ; 
36 



Bedouin Life 

Who live upon the horse's back, 

Save when they sit round desert well ; 

From Aden flee 'long pathless track 
To where the snowy mountains swell ; 

Who tireless watch through the long night, 

Beside their flocks, lying at rest, 
And, like Chaldeans old, have sight 

Of wisdom in the stars expressed ; 

Who still vague whispers sometimes hear 

From rocky Sinai's cloven heights, 
See phantoms of the desert steer 

The smoke-clouds in their wandering flights, 

And through a sudden rift: can catch 
The glowing of a heavenly face — 

O men, whose brains like a struck match 
Upflare, ye are of mine own race. 

land of tents, of martial breed ! 
O desert people, simple, brave ! 

Bedouin, thou art, upon thy steed, 
A poem such as poets crave. 

1 wander on a gloomy strand, — 

The North, ah ! it is thrifty, cold ; 

I would I sang 'mid burning sand 

And of the bridle-reins had hold. 

Freiligrath. 
37 



OH, LOVE SO LONG AS THOU 
CANST LOVE 

f~\H, love so long as thou canst love; 
^^^ Love while sweet love may still be thine. 
The days will come, the days will come, 
When thou beside sad graves shalt pine. 

Let then thy heart be warm and true, 
And cherish love, and love still bear, 

While in the world another heart 
Beats for thee with love's tender care. 

If one opens his breast to thee, 

For him do all that thou canst do, 
Nor make for him one hour of gloom, 

But all his days with joy renew. 

And o'er thy tongue keep watchful guard ; 

Soon spoken is a word unkind. 
O God, the thought was innocent; 

But she has felt the biting wind. 

Oh, love so long as thou canst love ; 

Love while sweet love may still be thine,, 
The days will come, the days will come, 

When thou beside sad graves shalt pine. 
38 



Oh, Love so Long as Thou canst Love 

Low-bending there, then thou shalt kneel, 

And hide thy sorrow-laden eyes ; 
Her they shall never see again, 

Who under the long dank grass lies. 

Thou speakest : Oh, look down on me, 
Whose tears here with thy dust are blent ; 

Forgive the wrongful word I spoke. 
O God, the thought was innocent. 

But she nor sees nor hears thee more, 
To fond embrace shall never come; 

The lips which thou so oft hast kissed, 
Are silent and forever dumb. 

Long since, thee, for thy bitter word, 

She from a loving heart forgave, 
Though many burning tears she shed. 

Be calm ; she sleeps well in her grave. 

Oh, love so long as thou canst love ; 

Love while sweet love may still be thine. 
The days will come, the days will come, 

When thou beside sad graves shalt pine. 

Freiligrath 



39 



THE EMIGRANTS 

T CANNOT turn from where ye stand, 

O swarming throngs who crowd the shore, 
And to the ship with busy hand, 
Take eagerly your little store. 

Ye men, who on broad shoulders bear 
Baskets upfilled with German bread, 

And climb the great ship's narrow stair 
As though from hateful foes ye fled. 

Black Forest maidens, tall and brown, 
Wearing rich crown of braided hair, 

Ye put your pots and pitchers down 
Upon the clean-washed deck with care. 

These are the pitchers, well I know, 

Which oft ye rilled at home's pure spring ; 

When where Missouri's waters flow, 
What tender memories they will bring 

Of stone-curbed village well, where you 

In circles stood chatting at eve ; 
Of hearth-fires, round which friends so true 

For your long absence still will grieve. 
40 



The Emigrants 

Soon will they stand in the far West, 

On wooden shelf of cottage bare ; 
Soon with some traveller seeking rest, 

Their cool fresh water will they share. 

From them will drink the Cherokee, 

Athirst from hunt of buffalo ; 
No more the vintage will you see, 

Or look on German wine's rich glow. 

Oh, why are ye gone far away ? 

The Neckar Vale grows vine and corn ; 
Black Forest shade cools the warm day ; 

In Spessart sounds the Alpine horn. 

'Mid primal forests you will long 

To see again the German hills, 
To hear the nightingale's rich song, 

And music of your native rills. 

What memories of the olden time 

Will thronging float through your sad thought, 
And, like some far-off Sabbath chime, 

With yearning love and hope be fraught ! 

The ship weighs anchor ; go in peace. 

God guide its course and bless you all, 
Your joy and happiness increase, 

And on your fields make His rain fell ! 

Freiligrath. 
41 



HIGH ON MOUNT LEBANON, HARD 
BY A SPRING 

TTIGH on Mount Lebanon, hard by a spring, 
A cedar lifts his branches to the sky ; 
Amidst them birds sing sweetest melody, 
And thrill the air with happy carolling. 

From the clear fount his strength the cedar draws, 
To whom with limpid stream she vigor brings, 
While he above her holds his shading wings ; 

Her sparkling wave more gladly flows because 
Beneath the fragrant boughs its journey lies, 
Which shield it from the heat of burning skies. 

Here is fit image of two souls entwined 

In wedlock, and by mutual love made one : 
He saves her from the wasting fire of sun ; 

She feeds his heart with love in hers enshrined. 

Friedman. 



42 



HOW FAIR ARE YE, O FRESH 
YOUNG GIRLS 

T TOW fair are ye, O fresh young girls, 

With ruby lips and clear bright eyes, 
With breath of kine and silken curls, 
And dimples where boy Cupid lies. 

How noble, too, are ye, brave youths, 
Upon whose brows the future gleams, 

Whose glowing cheeks the down still smoothes, 
Whose thoughts and hopes are like sunbeams. 

But none of you will I invite 

To the charmed circle where I feast ; 

Ye have not seen the hallowing light 

Which Memory sheds, — great Nature's priest. 

Geibel. 



WHERE'ER A HEART WITH TRUE 
LOVE GLOWS 



"YX WHERE'ER a heart with true love glows, 
Oh, touch not, touch not rudely there ; 
Quench not the light of the pure flame ; 
To do such wrong let no man dare. 



If anywhere in the wide world 

An unprofaned spot is found, 
It is in youth's all tender heart, 

With first love's fragrant blossoms crowned. 

Oh, grant him, then, his spring-time dream, 
Filled with the odorous breath of flowers ; 

For know ye not, once it shall fade, 
Never again bloom Eden's bowers. 

Full many a heart has broken been 
For love ruthlessly snatched away, 

Or fallen with a voiceless grief, 
To hate and hopelessness a prey. 
44 



Where er a Heart with True Love Glows 

And many who in secret bled, 

In utmost need aloud have cried, 
And thrown themselves in the world's dust, 

When the fair god within them died. 

Ah ! ye may weep and sore lament ; 

But never tears of bitter rue 
Can give the withered rose its bloom, 

Or the dead heart's young life renew. 

Geibel. 



45 



YEARNING 

F LOOK on the world and I look in my heart, 
Until from mine eyes the burning tears start ; 
Far distant I see the rich glowing light, 
But still the North holds me in its dark night. 
Oh, the world is so wide and the way so narrow, 
And time fleets swift as arrow J 

I know a land where, amidst sunny green, 
The ripe grapes glow fallen columns between; 
Where the deep blue waves on the shore sink down, 
And for coming poets waits the laurel crown. 
Sweetly smiling, it lures my yearning heart — 
Ah ! thither would I depart. 

Oh, had I but wings to cleave the blue air, 
How soon I would fly to that land so fair ! 
But, alas ! the thronging hours pass by ; 
Lament thy dead youth, and let thy song die. 
Oh, the world is so wide and the way so narrow, 
And time fleets swift as arrow ! 

Geibel. 



46 



YE UNBELIEVERS, COME, LOOK 
ON THE SPRING 

\7E Unbelievers, come, look on the Spring ! 

See where the wood, a living temple, glows, 
Whose heaven-seeking pillars upward fling 
Their arches green, standing in stately rows. 

Like incense, fragrance rises through the air ; 

The sun, a golden lamp, pours his rich light ; 
And in sweet harmony the hymn of prayer 

Is chanted by the birds from leafy height. 

The heavens bend, stooping to earth low down, 
To weave their colors through the happy flowers, 

While every being wears love's royal crown, 
And feels the presence of the higher Powers. 

Oh, say not, in your meaningless conceit, 
You comprehend the boundless mystery, 

And know it all to be a mere deceit, — 

A clock whose works tell their own history ! 

Your words are vain and die upon the tongue, 

While the whole earth is vocal with the praise 
Of God ; and every heart, again grown young, 
The blessing drinks, and lives delightful days. 

Geibel. 
47 



WITH RUNNING TIME I HASTEN, 
TOO 

*\ T 71TH running time I hasten, too, 

And make nowhere a home ; 
Like winds I move the whole earth through, 
And rest but when I roam. 

Since nought with me can long abide, 

To nought I bind my heart, 
But warm my hands at each fireside, 

Still ready to depart. 

The Spring outblooms and quickly dies ; 

The flowers fade at eve; 
My young heart's love in death now lies : 

Therefore to nought I cleave. 

Oh, cease, sweet friends, to bid me stay ; 

The earth itself rolls on. 
How can my soul then make delay, 

When all that comes is gone ? 

With hastening time I, too, must run, 

Like rivers, onward flow ; 
And follow after setting sun — 
Whither ? Ah, who can show ? 

Geibel. 
48 



CEASE MOANING; QUIT THY IDLE 
LIFE 

/"^EASE moaning ; quit thy idle life ; 
^"^ Go forward with brave heart. 
Be strong, and dare in noble strife ; 
Do like a man thy part. 

Thou mayst not stay when the fair Time 

With roses crowns thy head ; 
When sirens woo thee with soft rhyme, 

To rest on downy bed. 

Go forward ; and let thy high song 
Bear weight of the world's pain, 

Till on thy cheek the hot tears throng, 
Like showers of summer rain ; 

Till the thick-woven laurel crown 

Enwreathe thy radiant brow, 
And the pure flame of fair renown 

With glory thee endow. 

Still onward, through the ranks of foes, 

Though death await thee there ; 
In heaven's way the thorn still grows ; 

Who win must gready dare. 

Geibel. 
49 d 



WHAT WE AYE LOVE, AYE WITH 
US WILL ABIDE 

T F one whom thou dost love sinks in the grave, 

Bear to some solitude thy voiceless woe ; 

Or with thy burden through lone forests go, 

Or near the shore where moans the sad sea wave. 

The lost will there come back to thee and lave 
Thy soul with the sweet spirit's mystic glow, 
As present felt in gentle winds that blow, 

Till tears bring peace which sorrowing hearts most crave. 

By death made beautiful he walks with thee, 

Wearing the crown of the beatified, 
And dearer now, as thine eternally ; 

Thus loving souls have their fair Eastertide 
When from the grave they see the dead set free — - 

What we aye love, aye with us will abide. 

Geibel. 



5o 



OF PUREST JOY HE DRINKS HIS 
FILL 

/^VF purest joy he drinks his fill, 
^^ Who walks before sunrise : 
The woods are now as calm and still 

As child that sleeping lies ; 
Yet dreaming is the lark ; 
The brook sings in the dark 

Its sweet low melodies. 

Now, like a book, the earth and sky, 
With fair truth brimming o'er, 

In many-tinted lines do lie, 
And God is more and more ; 

All things both near and far, 

With the fresh morning star, 
Teach His high wisdom's lore. 

Like incense prayer uprises now 
Through the mild fragrant air, 

And in the heart Love makes his vow, 
Kneeling with head all bare, 

Until, like fountain singing, 

From his pure lips forth springing 
Glad hymns his bliss declare. 



Of Purest Joy he drinks his Fill 

Then suddenly the nightingale 

Pours out his happy song, 
And hill and plain and secret vale 

The melody prolong; 
The reddening sun's rich glow 
Uplights the music's flow. 

Sing to the Lord, — All hail ! 



Geibel. 



I LOVE TO WALK THE RISING 
MOON TO MEET 

LOVE to walk the rising moon to meet, 
Through the hushed streets where solemn silence 
reigns, 
Save that the fountain to the stones complains 
Of too swift passing of Time's rapid feet. 

Now holy night gives me her blessing sweet ; 

My troubled heart its sacred peace regains ; 

Fair love around me throws his golden chains, 
And in my bosom takes his blissful seat. 

The vanished days of my dead youth return, 

And from my breast sweet mournful songs upflow, 

Filled with calm thoughts of those for whom I yearn ; 
As from dark sea uprises the white row 

Of swans, when from the wintry north they turn, 
And southward fly where fragrant meadows blow. 

Geibel. 



53 



GIVE ME BUT THE FOAM OF 
THE LIGHT WINE 

/~* I VE me but the foam of the light wine, 
^^^ But the beady foam alone ; 
Give me but the dream of love divine 
For this life, which soon is flown. 

Full draught let another drink, not me, 

Who dwells in his home at rest ; 
But I, like a wanderer, must flee, 

Not sit like a bird in nest, — 

Must wander and roam the world around, 

'Long a thousand winding ways, 
Both over the land and seas profound, 

Where the light of spring delays. 

Wherever a pleading voice I hear, 

That would bid me cease to fare, 
And with those who love me take good cheer, 

I sing him the same old air. 

Give me but the foam of the light wine, 

But the beady foam alone ; 

Give me but the dream of love divine 

For this life, which soon is flown. 

Geibel. 

54 



ONCE AS I ROSE AT BREAK OF 
DAY 

/^VNCE as I rose at break of day, 

^^ Thinking the winter still was here, 

The lark began to sing blithe lay, 

Upfluttering through the heavens clear: 
Tirili, tirili, no longer dream ; 

Dull sleeper, open thou thy eyes. 
Behold, the spring with her bright gleam 

Has stolen from the skies, 

And looks about with glad surprise. 

And as I cast an upward glance, 

The ethereal blue swam full in view, 

And trees and flowers seemed to dance 
With joy, in leafy dress all new ; 

And when I listened to my heart, 

There sat young Love all gayly singing, 

As though he ne'er had felt a smart, 
And the whole earth was ringing, 
And life on every side was springing. 

Geibel, 



55 



THE STARS 

A RE stars the gentle lambs of God, 

Which, frightened by the noisy day, 
From the blue vault by angels trod, 

Are shepherded 'neath night's mild sway ? 

Or are they mystic lilies white, 

Which their fair leaves with love down bend, 
To pour sweet slumber through the night, 

And rest to weary workers send ? 

Or are they, in God's temple high, 
The gleaming lamps uphung aloft, 

When darkness gathers in the sky, 
To shed on souls their radiance soft ? 

No ; they are letters bright and pure, 

With which the angels spell God's name, 

In the infinite dome obscure, 
Until it glows with love aflame. 



Geibel. 



56 



NOW HILL AND DALE OUTBLOOM 
AGAIN 

"\TOW hill and dale outbloom again, 
"*• The zephyrs bear life-giving rain, 
And Beauty lifts her happy head : 
I would be glad, but my heart is dead. 

Friends row with merry stroke and light, 
Upon the waters stars are bright, 
And music o'er the waves is shed : 
I would be glad, but my heart is dead. 

The moon swims forth through the heavens bare, 
Gay songs ring out in the balmy air, 
And wine in the crystal cup is red : 
I would be glad, but my heart is dead. 

And though my love from out the grave 
Should rise, with all the joy she gave, 
Bringing again all that has fled, 
Still past is past, and dead is dead. 

Geibel. 



57 



AH! IT IS LONG SINCE I HAVE 

SUNG 

AH! it is long since I have sung : 

Full many moons have waxed and waned ; 
A dreary winter's frosts have hung 
Like fetters on my soul, deep pained. 

Much have I suffered, much have borne, 
From biting tongues and bitter hearts, 

Who, driven by base hate and scorn, 
Have through my soul shot fiery darts. 

And with their folly, my own sin 

Has made compact to punish me : 
But now, my heart, be still within, 

The spring is come and thou art free. 

The tender buds are green and soft, 
The brooks outlaugh in merry song, 

My happy soul is borne aloft ; 

Come, let us wander flowers among. 

Geibel. 



58 



NOW WILL I HUSH EACH PLAINT 
AND SIGH 

IVTOW will I hush each plaint and sigh, 
The long, sad echo of my woe ! 
The day has dawned, the night must go, 
The hour which brings relief is nigh. 

No mournful numbers will I try ; 
In gleeful tones, O song, upflow, 
Like lark's which scatters here below 

The happy notes that thrill the sky. 

Come forth adorned for feast and dance, 
With flowers and with gladness crowned ; 

Let music rich all hearts entrance, 
And let the merry laugh ring round. 

For Spring looks down with rainbow glance, 
And in my heart sweet voices sound. 

Geibel. 



59 



IN WOODS, WHEN THE SUN IS 
SHINING BRIGHT 

T N woods, when the sun is shining bright, 

And the purple buds with joy forth spring, 
It is my heartfelt deep delight 
To sing. 

What I have known of joy and pain, 

Awake or dreaming at my ease, 
I tell alone in tuneful strain 
The trees. 

And they the words I sing well know ; 

The leafy boughs themselves give ear, 
And with a gentle rustle show 
They hear. 

My song is borne on airy wing, 

Through dells and over hills away, 
And glad sweet-throated birds re-sing 
My lay. 

Then through my soul the echoes throng 

Of all divinest melodies ; 

O pleasant air, O songs among 

The trees. 

Geibel. 
60 



SO LONG THROUGH VALES AND 
MOUNTAINS HIGH 

CO long through vales and mountains high 

I 've wandered mile on mile, 
And now at rest I long to lie, 
While dreams my soul beguile. 

But wheresoe'er I knock and ask 

For leave to sit me down, 
A loveless voice takes me to task, 

Forbidding with a frown. 

Here is there naught that thou canst do, 

No place for thee to rest ; 
Therefore away, nor longer sue, — 

All poets are a pest. 

But, though the world despise my song, 

To me at least 't is sweet, 
Dear as the stars which heaven throng, 

Or words that lovers repeat. 
61 



So Long Through Vales and Mountains High 

It is my sky, it is my air, 

Where with delight I fly ; 
It is my fragrant rosebush fair 

Whose branches I uptie. 

It is my spring when far and wide 

The leaves of autumn fall, 
And, when the winds of winter chide, 

It is my welcome hall. 

And but for it the month of May 

To me would not be dear, 
For Love himself would flee away, 

And all the world be drear. 

And when my song in silence dies, 

Lay me in quiet grave, 
For else is nothing which supplies 

The joy and bliss it gave. 

Geibel. 



62 



THE POET SITS WITH MAGIC 
WAND 

r "PHE poet sits with magic wand 
Upon his mountain throne, 
And looks upon both sea and land, 
And sees from zone to zone. 

To his high song must tribute pay- 
All that on earth is best, 

Must at his feet their treasures lay- 
Remotest east and west. 

By crystal fountains, springing clear, 

He sees the palm-tree rise, 
And fragrant linden alleys near 

The modest violet spies. 

If he but nod, the rose will bare 

Her beauty to his sight, 
And lotus-bloom through silvery air 

Will greet the soft moonlight. 
63 



The Poet Sits with Magic Wand 

Through blackest mine he makes his way, 

Dives into ocean deep, 
Where gleams the ruby's crimson ray, 

Where pearls in darkness sleep. 

He gives the swan its dying note, 

The bird its flute-like trill, 
And through his song the glories float 

Which morn and evening fill. 

The abyss's hoarse eternal roar 

He echoes back again, 
The stars which stud the heavenly floor 

Join in the godlike strain. 

All things obey his mighty power 

And hail him as their king, 
While he his high and royal dower 

To some fair child doth bring. 

Geibel. 



64 



THE LILY BLOOMS ALL FAIR 

T^HE lily blooms all fair, 

The leaf kisses the rose, 
And through the balmy air 
My dream of beauty glows. 

The flowers, bending low, 

Greet me with gentle eye ; 
The nightingales forego 

Their songs while I pass by. 

My heart grows calm and still 

In this serenest night ; 
At rest is my weak will ; 

Dead love awakes to sight. 

A voice from the deep sky 

I seem almost to hear ; 
Methinks 't were sweet to die, 

God's heaven is so near. 

Geibel. 



65 



A POET BORN 

/^\N whom the Muse has turned her loving eye, 
^^^ Is a born poet and will so remain, 

Despite or fate or matter's soulless reign, 
However late his song fall from the sky. 

The many devious paths that round him lie, 
Pointing to wealth and place, allure in vain. 
He hears the echo of diviner strain, 

And dreaming walks, till he with wings may fly. 

When Spring steps forth her new-blown flowers among, 
His heart is thrilled by her fair beauty's glow ; 

When Love looks up, he cannot hush his song, 
But, like a fount from the deep earth below, 

His notes break forth in sweet, melodious throng, 
And the new singer now all men shall know. 

Geibel. 



66 



HAPPY THOUGHTS 

A ND why should I not hold most dear 
This earthly life of mine, 
Where hope dispels the gloom of fear 

As stars in darkness shine ? 
If Time brings sorrow in his train, 

He brings sweet pleasure too ; 
A moment's joy whole years of pain 
Will banish quite from view. 



Learn but to seize the goddess fair 

When smiling she goes by ; 
In thy own heart and everywhere 

Seek her through earth and sky. 
And if mishap should come to thee, 

Know it will pass away ; 
Laugh, then, in face of misery, 

Thinking of better day. 
67 



Happy Thoughts 

Let not dull sorrow stay with thee ; 

Put far away all grief; 
If sadness come, oh, quickly flee 

To song for sweet relief. 
The gentle muse will lead thee on 

Through the dark night's deep gloom, 
Till gleams in the gray east the dawn, 

And brighter worlds upbloom. 

Geibel. 



68 



THE BITTER WORLD'S SORE FRET 

n^HE bitter world's sore fret 

With anguish fills my breast ; 
I will it all forget, 

And in deep woods find rest. 

A long farewell I take, 
Sad pleasures all forsake, 
A hermit I will make, 
The wilderness my guest. 

This garb, so rich and gay, 
Is now all worthless grown ; 

My sword I put away, 
All vanity disown. 

Fly, falcon, into space, 
Gone is the maddening chase ; 
Run on, O steed, thy race, 
For I must be alone. 

A little cottage here 

In shadow of the trees 
Shall seem to me more dear 

Than palace's soft ease. 
69 



The Bitter World's Sore Fret 

The crucifix shall be 
My only company, 
And I shall live as free 

As the fresh morning breeze. 

In hollow of the tree 
Wild honey will I take, 

And herbs enough there be 
Simple repast to make. 

A limpid spring close by, 
Upbubbling to the sky, 
Cool waters will supply 

My healthful thirst to slake. 

A garden, too, shall lie 

Quite near my cottage door, 

Where I sweet task will ply, 
And count my flowers o'er ; 

And in my heart the while 
Shall think of all the guile 
That lurks in love's soft smile, 
Which me shall grieve no more. 

And should there come to me 
Perchance a timid deer, 

He shall be company, 

And give me pleasant cheer, — 
70 



The Bitter World's Sore Fret 

Shall lie beside my bed, 
And from my hand be fed, 
More grateful for his bread 
Than man, and more sincere. 

So will I lead my life 

With nature all alone, 
Far from the hate and strife 

Of men, who curse and moan. 

At foot of cross will lay 
My burden, and will pray, 
With yearning heart, each day, 
" Lord, take me for Thine own." 

And if God hear my prayer 
The wood shall be my grave ; 

Above, in the cool air, 

Green boughs shall gently wave, 

And pale wild-roses bloom 
In the dim, sober gloom ; 
And all about my tomb 

Deep silence would I crave. 



Geibel. 



7' 



A LEGEND OF THE RHINE 

/~^\N the Rhine, on the pleasant Rhine, 
^^^ How fair is a spring night, 
When the vine-clad hills all shine 
In the moon's soft silvery light : 

Then the hills and vines among, 

A form glides gently on, 
At his side a sword is hung, 

His crown is like the dawn. 

It is Charlemagne the king, 

Who with a mighty hand, 
His sceptre once did swing 

O'er all the German land. 

From his grave uprisen now, 

He walks along the Rhine, 
And he blesses every bough 

That promises rich wine. 
72 



A Legend of the Rhine 

Close by Rudesheim moonlight 
A bridge o'er the water weaves, 

And it glows through the deep night 
Like sunshine on the leaves. 



And here Charlemagne walks o'er, 
Passing with certain tread ; 

His blessings on either shore 
Upon the vine are shed. 

He returns again to Aix 

And in his grave down lies, 

Till the coming spring awakes 
Him with her joyful cries. 

Then here 's health to heroes great 
Who, in the German land, 

Have upbuilt the noble state 
With strong and fearless hand. 



Geibel. 



73 



THIS IS THE DARKSOME MYSTERY 

' | "HIS is the darksome mystery 

Which fills my heart with sorrow, — 
That we nor joy nor misery 
Can feel beyond the morrow. 

However deep the pain we bear, 

In inmost soul though lying, 
The birds sing out, the day is fair, 

And straight we hush our sighing. 

However sweet the bliss we taste 

A moment all will swallow, 
Our Paradise becomes a waste, 

And what we love is hollow. 

And knowing this I scarcely know 

Which is the keener sorrow : 

That all our griefs so quickly go, 

Or joys have no to-morrow. 

Geibel. 



74 



WITH DISTANT DYING THUNDER 
TONE 

T 1 HTH distant, dying thunder tone 

The storm has fled away, 
And over the moist earth is thrown 
The sun's bright golden ray. 

With what pure eyes the flowers look round, 

How blithely the brook sings ; 
With what glad drops the leaves are crowned, 

How freshly the corn springs ! 

My soul, behold the boundless green, 

And all the beauty here, 
And see thy own sweet youth's fair mien 

When life was full and clear. 

Touch not thy lyre ; be hushed thy song, 

While vocal is the spring ; 
With richer music her notes throng 

Than aught that thou canst sing. 

Geibel. 



75 



DEEP DARKNESS, LIKE AN INKY 
VEIL 

F^jEEP darkness, like an inky veil, 
^"^ Falls on the dying day ; 
The rising sun let others hail, 
But I love not his ray. 

My eye for a far distant shore 

Through deepening twilight peers ; 

A single star, from heaven's door, 
Looks on my blinding tears. 

A saintly face, white as the moon, 

With yearning turns to me ; 

Where she has gone I follow soon, 

Into eternity. 

Geibel. 



76 



LIKE A FAIR MAIDEN BLISS IS 
COY 

IKE a fair maiden bliss is coy, 
' Intangible as air: 
Thou huntest round the earth for Joy, 
And findest him nowhere. 

Lie rather on the fragrant grass 

And sing thy merry lay, 
And then perchance thou 'It see him pass, 

Or even near thee stay. 

Then take him quick and hold him fast, 

Nor speak a word the while, 
Else fleet as thought he will have passed 

Ere thou hast caught his smile. 

Geibel. 



77 



SONG OF THE SPINNING WHEEL 

TTUM, O hum, my spinning wheel, 

Turn ever without rest : 
For shrouds and birth-clothes thread I reel, 
And for the bridal vest. 

O golden thread, who can foretell 

What fortune shall be thine, 
Whether with joy or grief to dwell, 

The quick or dead to twine. 

Beginning is not like the end, 
Nor hope like deed that 's done ; 

What we for marriage feast intend 
For mourning veil is spun. 

Hum, my wheel, hum thy sad song; 

As swift as thou life flies, 
And he who laughing thinks it long, 

Looks round and weeping dies. 
78 



Song of the Spinning Wheel 

Mid clouds the sun sinks into night, 
And joy flees like the wind ; 

How can a thread so fine and slight 
Truth and sweet love fast bind ! 



Hum, O hum, my spinning wheel, 

Turn ever without rest : 
O flowing tears, my soul anele, 

Give peace to my sad breast. 

Geibel. 



79 



DEEPEST STILLNESS ON THE 
WATER 



"pvEEPEST stillness on the water, 
^~^ Motionless is all the sea ; 

Far and near beholds the sailor 
Smoothness stretch infinitely. 



Not a breath from any quarter, 
Deathlike calmness in the air, 

On the boundless waste of water 
Not a stir is anywhere. 



Goethe. 



80 



THROUGH WOODS I WENT 

HTHROUGH woods I went 
■** Without a thought ; 

On nothing bent 
I nothing sought. 

In shade I spied 

A little flower, 
As star bright-eyed, 

Fresh as a shower. 

To pluck it I stooped ; 

A soft voice said, 
While the flower drooped, 

"When plucked I'm dead." 

I dug it then, 

And took it straight 
To leafy glen 

Close to my gate. 

Now planted there 

In quiet nook, 
It thrills the air 

With its sweet look. 

Goethe. 
81 F 



DELIGHTFUL DAYS 

T^VELIGHTFUL days, 
^^^ Are ye come again ? 
The sun's warm rays 
Clothe height and plain. 

All gleeful flow 

The laughing rills 
Through green meadow 

And twixt the hills. 

O balmy air, 

Celestial heights, 
What sounds I hear 

And see what sights ! 

The glad birds sing 

Amid the trees, 
Their blithe songs bring 

Most dear heart's-ease. 

In fragrant bowers, 

The yellow bees, 
Spend all the hours 

The bloom to tease. 
82 



Delightful Days 

They hum and fly- 
On busy wing, 

Their sweet task ply, 
And working sing. 

The fishes swim 
In waters bright, 

Throw shadows dim 
In their quick flight. 

The zephyr's wings 
Shed fragrance there ; 

The soft wind sings 
To the fainting air, 

Or gently dies 
Upon my breast, 

Where now it lies 
Like child at rest. 

O joy, O peace, 

O Muses dear, 
May never cease 

Your presence here ! 



Goethe. 



83 



PEACE 

/^ THOU who from Thy heavenly height 
^^^ Beholdest every pain and grief, 
And where souls pine in blackest night 

Dost ever send most sweet relief; 
Shall I from erring never cease ? 

What purpose serve my joy and sorrow ? 
O holy Peace, 

Let me thy secret of thee borrow ! 

In highest things 

Is peace ; 

E'en zephyr's wings 

There cease 

The flowers to woo, 

And birds their songs forget : 

Wait but a moment yet 

And thou 'It rest too. 

Goethe. 



84 



DAYS THAT ARE DEAD 

"\ T THO will bring the beautiful days, 

The days of my first love ? 
Who will bring but a single hour 
From that fair time again ? 

Solitary I nurse my wound 

And with ever renewed lament 
Grieve over my long lost bliss : 
Who will bring the beautiful days, 

Those fairest days again ? 

Goethe. 



*5 



WHAT WRITE THE WAVES 

\\ 7HAT write the waves on sandy shore? 

They write their bitter suffering, 
Their coming, parting evermore, 

From resting-place where they would cling. 

And I look out upon the sea, — 

My fondest hope, my love's pure joy, 

On shifting sands all written be 

In lines the next wave will destroy. 

GOTTSCHALL. 



86 



A FREEBORN PEOPLE HEARD IN 
ANCIENT TIMES 

A FREEBORN people heard, in ancient times, 
The muse of ^Eschylus and Sophocles, 
With heavenly strength and godlike power to please, 
In loftiest strains rehearse heroic rhymes. 

O happy poets, in delightful climes, 

To whom the people's voice pure fame decrees, 
Round whom they gather in glad companies 

To mingle praise with merit's nobler chimes. 

Ye modern bards, who of such triumphs hear 

Unwillingly, how little ye are free 
In thought or deed, how narrow is your sphere 

Of faith and hope, how small is what you see ! 
Yet wait not till the o'ercast sky grow clear, — 

Lead on, however dark the days may be. 

GOTTSCHALL. 



*7 



BESIDE A DEEP WOOD LIES 

"DESIDE a deep wood lies 

A flowery meadow green, 
Where, under azure skies, 
A fair maid may be seen. 

She with her sickle goes 

In circles o'er the plain, 
And in her fancy mows 

The flowers, singing soft strain. 

The cuckoo all day cries 

Still deeper in the wood, 
And in his sweet replies 

She hears omen of good. 



Greif. 



SS 



AH! NOWHERE CAN I LONG 
ABIDE 

A H ! nowhere can I long abide, 
All restless is my heart ; 
The clouds and winds and waves on-glide, 
And so must I depart. 

In autumn, when the swallows fly, 

Deep longing fills my soul, 
Around about me voices cry ; 

I hear the years on roll. 

When wanderers leave their homes behind 

With them in thought I go ; 
When I my heart to men would bind 

I think of parting's woe. 

From what I most have yearned to see 

I straightway turn again ; 
If I must live I must be free, 

Nor even wear love's chain. 

The soul to which my own would cling 

Trembles, as I, with dread ; 

And so I roam, like guilty thing, 

Homeless till I be dead. 

Greif. 
89 



THE NEW TANNHAUSER 

f~* LEAMING 'mid the linden boughs, 
Where the nightingales are singing, 
My old church-tower's cross I see, 
Blessings on the people flinging ; 

And with moistening eyes remember — 
Ah ! what years have since gone by ! — 

How, before the altar kneeling, 
A believing child prayed I. 

Every Sunday there I met 

Her whom my young heart adored, 
And the good old priest at last 

Gave the blessing we implored. 

Long it was ago, — meantime, 
I, with worldly wisdom filled, 

In my knowing, cunning brain, 

God, the dear good God, have killed. 
90 



The New Tannhaiiser 

Gods unto ourselves we are, 

And none other will confess, 
We, the Spirit of the All, 

We, the heart of all success. 

To the narrow church of stone 
Preacher's voice can lure no more, 

But, of thee, O my sweet love, 
Bells are vocal as of yore. 

And a veil draws o'er my eyes, 

When, as in my youth's fair prime, 

Peaceful 'mid the linden boughs 
I behold the church-tower climb. 

Grisebach. 



91 



FALL FAST, O PATTERING RAIN, 
FALL FAST 

T^ALL fast, O pattering rain, fall fast, 

Awake again the slumbering dreams 
Of childish days, too sweet to last, 
With all their many-tinted gleams, 

When in the sultry summer hours, 
Upon the parched and thirsty earth, 

Poured down thy cool refreshing showers, 
And drooping corn rose glad as mirth. 

What sweetest pleasure then to stand 
With naked feet in the lush grass, 

And catch the drops in outstretched hand, 
Or watch the airy bubbles pass ! 

Like mothers' kisses on the cheek 

The sweet, delightful waters fell, 
And we, with merry laugh and shriek, 

Felt new life in our bosoms swell. 
92 



Fall Fasty Pattering Rain, Fall Fast 

Like flower-cups upturned to the sky 
Our happy souls stood open there, 

To drink the zephyr's fragrant sigh 
And balm of the delicious air. 



Each trembling drop that showered down 
Brought gladness to the inmost heart, 

As though all sorrow it would drown 
And give to life a fresher start. 

Fall fast, O pattering rain, bring now 
The merry songs which then we sang, 

Standing beneath the dripping bough 
Till all the woods with music rang. 

Ah ! would that I again might hear 

The rain's moist rustle round my head, 

Sweet as are thoughts of all the dear 

Who lie in their cool, earthy bed. 

Groth. 



93 



DEATH'S PURIFYING POWER 

T T THEN comes the day from trouble free, 

The hour of perfect pure delight ? 
Not now, nor will it come for thee, — 

It has already taken flight. 
What we have lost seems good and fair, 

While what we have lacks power to please ; 
The present good we do not seize, 

But wait till it has flown elsewhere. 

Where is the man, the blameless one, 

Whom every virtue marks her own ? 
His faults, like blots on the fair sun, 

If he is near are clearly shown ; 
But when he goes, nor comes again, 

He seems all noble and all brave, — 
Till he lies safe within the grave 

His real worth is never plain. 

The farthest is the fairest still, 

By distance clothed in softest light ; 

The stars owe their high power to thrill 
To their far off infinite flight ; 
94 



Death' s Purifying Power 

And the blest days of youth are sweet 
When in the past they buried lie, 

Hidden from all, save memory's eye, 
Where hope and faithful love still meet. 



See where in many a billowy mound 

Yon graveyard lies on the hillside, 
Waves of a dark sea and profound, 

Which so much love forever hide ; 
They wash all sin and stain away, 

And when thy soul looks in the deep 
It feels : " Here too shall I soon sleep 

And cleansing waters round me play." 

Grun. 



95 



THE GRAVEYARD BY THE SEA 

TN distant land, high over the sea, 

Upborne on rocks to the sky, 
A graveyard lies which all may see 
Who in great white ships sail by. 

There on the green grass rests stone by stone 

Under the primeval trees, 
And many a legend's whispered tone 

Is heard in the sighing breeze. 

There linger the angels of the dead, 

Hovering o'er the silent field, 
And a sentinel stands with bended head, 

In his hand a golden shield. 

There truth and love all calmly sleep, 
From the homes of men long fled, 

And the evening star looks out from the deep 
With smiles on their mossy bed. 

Year in and year out sad time onflies, 

With his burden all wearily, 
But eternal sunshine sleeping lies 

On this graveyard by the sea. 

Haushofer. 

96 



FAR DISTANT I BEHOLD 

T|*AR distant I behold 

The city and its towers 
Gleaming with sunset gold, 
In midst of fragrant bowers. 

The freshening breeze moves o'er 
The gently flowing stream ; 

My boat with its sad rower 
Glides on as in a dream. 

The sun uplifts again 

His head sinking to rest, 
And points far o'er the plain 

To her I love the best. 



Heine. 



97 



OF AZRA'S TRIBE 

9 I "HE Sultan's daughter, radiant fair, 

Day after day in evening air 
Walked near a fountain springing 
To hear the waters singing. 

A youthful slave stood day by day 
Close to the fountain's silvery spray, 
And watched the waters flowing, 
His face still paler growing. 

The princess drew one evening near, 
And spoke to him in accents clear : 
" Thy name and kindred tell, 
And home where thou dost dwell." 

" Mohammed," said he, "is my name, 
And Yemen is the home I claim, 
Of Azra's tribe am I, 
Who when they love must die." 

Heine. 



THE LORELEY 

"\ 1 7HY I am sad I cannot tell ; 

A legend of the olden time 
Rings in my heart like far-off bell, 

And thrills me with its solemn rhyme. 

The day stoops low, the air is chill, 
And silent flows the darkling Rhine, 

Upon the brow of vineclad hill 
The rays of setting sun soft shine. 

High on the rocks a maiden fair 
Sits all alone, as angel bright; 

She sits and combs her golden hair, 
While day is sinking into night. 

She combs her hair with golden comb, 
And sings the while a sweet, sad song, 

Which floats away as the flecking foam 
Is borne by flowing wave along. 
99 



The Loreley 

The boatman drifting in a dream 

Glides on, and thrills with wildest pain ; 

The rocks he sees not in the stream, 
Enchanted by that plaintive strain. 

The wave I ween will swallow soon 

The boatman in his reverie, 
The Loreley in her witching tune 

Sings with the voice of destiny, 

Heine. 



WE SAT CLOSE TO THE FISHER'S 
DOOR 

*\ ^ 7"E sat close to the fisher's door 
And looked out on the sea ; 
The evening fog drew to the shore 
And rose along the lea. 

The lighthouse threw its lonely glare 

Across the darkling tide, 
And through the dusk of evening air 

A ship was seen to glide. 

We spoke of wave and storm and wreck, 

Of sailors and their life 
Passed on the ever-moving deck, 

With death and danger rife : 

We spoke of distant lands and isles, 
Which lay north, south, east, west, 

Of uncouth men and savage wiles, 
And all that may be guessed. 



We Sat Close to the Fisher's Door 

On Ganges' banks rich fragrance lies, 

And giant trees uploom, 
While peaceful men lift calmest eyes 

To the fair lotus bloom. 

In Lapland man is low desire, 

Wide mouths, flat heads and small ; 

They chew and chatter round the fire ; 
This of their life is all. 

The young girls listened most intent^ 

Then silence softly fell ; 
The ship with darkness soon was blent ; 

We rose and said farewell. 

Heine. 



THE OCEAN GLEAMED LIKE 
MOLTEN GOLD 

HPHE ocean gleamed like molten gold 

Beneath the setting sun : 
She sat and looked pensive and cold, 
As silent as a nun. 

The fog rose on the swelling tide, 

The sea-gull onward passed, 
And I, sweet love, sat by thy side 

And saw thy tears fall fast. 

I saw them fall upon thy hand, 

And I, on bended knee, 
Stooped low, and drank from that white hand 

The tears that flowed for me. 

And from that hour no peace I find, 

But of sheer longing die ; 
Those tears have made me wholly blind, 

To death have brought me nigh. 



Heine. 



JOY IS A GAY, LIGHT-HEARTED 
MAID 

JOY is a gay, light-hearted maid, 
Who in one place will never stay ; 
She comes to thee like one afraid, 
Gives but a kiss and flies away. 

Dame Sorrow constant is and true, 

And presses thee close to her heart ; 

When thou wouldst flee she will pursue, 

Nor ever from thee will depart. 

Heine. 



104 



THE FIR-TREE AND THE PALM 

/^VN northern hill a fir-tree stands, 

And slumbers all alone ; 
Winter round him his icy bands 
And mantle white has thrown. 



He dreams of oriental palm, 

Who, on her rocky seat, 

All solitary mourns and calm 

Amid the desert's heat. 

Heine. 



MUSIC OF SPRING 



O WEETLY through my soul now ring 

The peals of silvery bells. 
Ring, O ring, music of spring, 
Which in my heart deep dwells. 



Send your tones through azure air 
To where the flowers blow, 

And if by a rose they fare 
Say I my greeting throw. 



Heine. 



106 



IN BEAUTIFULLEST MONTH OF 
MAY 

TN beautifullest month of May, 
When all the flowers bloom, 
Love on my heart his head did lay, — 
I caught his breath's perfume. 

In beautifullest month of May, 

When all the woodlands ring, 
I told her all my heart would say 

While birds were carolling. 

Heine. 



HOPE'S CROWN 

TTEART, my heart, still wear Hope's crown ; 

Despite all fate may bring 
Love that died in winter's frown 
Will live again in spring. 

Think of all that still is thine, 

And of the world so fair ; 

Heart, my heart, do not repine, 

But seek love everywhere. 

Heine. 



108 



WHEN I PASS BY THY HOUSE 

T 1 7HEN I pass by thy house 
In the fresh morning air, 
Pure joy, O little maid, 
I feel at sight of thee. 

With thy deep, black-brown eyes 
Inquiring thou dost gaze : 
" Who art, and what ails thee, 
O strange and suffering man ? " 

A German poet am I, 
Well known in German land ; 
Who speaks the noblest names 
Mine also will he speak. 

What ails me, little maid ? 
Much ails in German land ; 
Who tells the bitterest woe 
Mine also he will tell. 



Heine. 



109 



LOVE'S SOLACE 

A "\ 7 HEN I the song again 

Hear which my sweet love sang, 
My heart is cleft in twain 
By sorrow's bitter pang. 

Then yearning deep drives me 

To yon lone mountain height : 

Through tears I there grow free, 

And of my love lose sight. 

Heine. 



SACRED BEAUTY 

A TENDER flower thou art, 
So fragrant, fair, and mild ; 
Looking on thee, my heart 
Grows heavy, O my child. 

My hand upon thy head 

I fain would place, and pray 

That God may blessings shed 
To keep thee pure alway. 



Heine. 



IF THE LITTLE FLOWERS KNEW 

TF the little flowers knew 

The deep wound of my heart, 
They would shed sweet tears of rue 
To still the bitter smart. 

If the nightingales did know 

How sick and sad I am, 
Their tenderest notes would flow 

To me like healing balm. 

If the golden stars could see 

My hopeless woe and grief, 
Through the heavens they would flee 

To bring me blest relief. 

But none of them can know, 

One only knows my pain ; 

She has wrought me all my woe 

And cleft my heart in twain. 

Heine. 



UPON THE WINGS OF SONG 

T TPON the wings of song 

I bear thee on, my sweet, 
To Ganges' banks along, 
And love's hidden retreat. 

There a blooming garden lies, 
Bathed in the moon's soft light, 

And the yearning lotus sighs 
For her dear sister's sight. 

The violets whisper and kiss, 
And gaze on the starry sheen ; 

The roses tell their bliss 

The fragrant leaves between. 

Meek-eyed gazelles draw nigh 

And list to what they say ; 
The sacred waves roll by 

And murmur on their way. 

There we to earth shall sink 

Beneath the palm-tree's shade, 
And love and peace shall drink 

And dream, of naught afraid. 

Heine. 
113 H 



THE DEWDROP AND THE WAVE 



HHO a Dewdrop bright a Wave made speech : 

"Come, follow me upon my way ; 
I '11 bear thee on until we reach 

The ocean, where the billows play." 



The Dewdrop answered, whispering low : 

" No ! better to be here alone 
Than rolling on in restless flow, 

'Mid myriad drops a drop unknown. 

" Glide past me, then, in thy quick flight ; 

I die within the rose's breast, 
Which in some lover's hand this night 

Shall droop with fragrance, — fate most blest. 

" In vain ye lure me from this bed : 

Here is my bliss, — for rest is bliss." 

The Wave, then mocking, onward fled 

To perish in the sea's abyss. 

Herwegh. 

114 



HEARTS MUST BLEED ERE THEY 

CAN DIE 



"\^ 70ULD I might fade like hues of evening sky 

When weary day sinks into restful night ! 
O bliss, to dream, to swoon, and so to die, 
To fall asleep in God, as wanes the light ! 



Would I, like a fair star, might pass away, 
With brightness unobscured, to other sphere, 

And, calm and painless, end my little day, 

Dropping through azure heaven's boundless mere ! 

Would I might perish like the flower's breath, 
Which from the fragrant petals softly steals, 

And on the quiet air is borne to death 

Like incense rising while the organ peals ! 

Would I might vanish like the morning dew, 
When thirsty day looks on the glistering plain, 

Sucked up by God into the infinite blue, 
With all my hopes and all life's little gain ! 



Hearts Must Bleed ere they Can Die 

Would I might float away like viewless tone 

Which makes escape from viol's trembling strings, 

And, from its narrow prison scarcely flown, 
In the creator's breast in music sings ! 

Thou shalt not fade like hues of evening sky ; 

Not like a star to rest shalt calmly sink ; 
Not like the flower's perfume shalt thou die ; 

No morning ray thy life, like dew, shall drink. 

Yet shalt thou pass nor leave a trace behind ; 

But many sorrows first thy soul shall try ; 
To other things remorseless death is kind, 

But human hearts must bleed ere they can die. 

Herwegh. 



116 



O FRIENDS OF MINE, UPHANG 
WHEN I AM DEAD 

f~\ FRIENDS of mine, uphang when I am dead 
^ _> ^ This little harp, above the altar there, 
Where hang so many wreaths just overhead 

Of gentle maids who died when spring was fair. 

The sexton then to travellers will show 

This little harp with ribbons red entwined, 

Which fall and float in peaceful rhythmic flow 
Beneath the golden chords in evening wind. 

And oft, so he shall tell, at sunset hour 

The strings with tenderest melody do thrill, 

And children playing near in fragrant bower 

Behold the wreaths tremble and then grow still. 

Holtz. 



"7 



FLOWN AWAY 

"TCLOWN away, 
Far away, 
The birds from the nest : 

Naked walls, 

Deserted halls, 
Mourn the vanished guest. 

Olden times, 
Forgotten rhymes, 

Like ghosts rise again : 
Where now thy joy, 
Thy heart of boy ? 

Doth nothing remain ? 

Silvery bells 

Through deep dells 
Ring out as of yore ; 

Flee then, quickly flee, 

Lest the spider see 
Thy tears brimming o'er. 

118 



Heyse. 



MY SOUL, THOU FLOATEST FAR 

TV/fY soul, thou floatest far 
Through ether pure, 
When gleams the morning star 
O'er hill and moor. 

The golden clouds uprise 

To cool thy brow, 
Where, winnowing the wide skies, 

Thou glidest now. 

Through deep abysmal space 

Thy wing flies on, 
Contending in the race 

With the swift dawn. 

The suns around thee move, 

Circling 'mid light, 
Sweeping in ringing groove 

Through heaven's height. 
119 



My Soul, Thou Floatest Far 

Again thou droppest down 

To the sweet earth, 
Wearing the blooming crown 

Of love and mirth ; 

And like a creeping vine 

Thou climbest now, 
Thy tendrils to entwine 

Round fragrant bough. 

With all thy poverty 

What wealth is thine ! 
With all thy misery 

Thou art divine. 

Canst thou, with joys like these, 

My soul, be sad ? 

When heaven and earth both please, 

Why not be glad ? 

Heyse. 



LAURELLA 

T AURELLA, thou art wild and coy, 
*^^ But to thy mother tame ; 
Thou knowest naught of the sad joy 
And madness of love's flame. 

How free thy hair floats in the breeze ! 

Thy eyelashes droop low, 
Nor man nor maiden ever sees 

The thoughts that 'neath them glow. 

Thy teeth, fresh ruby lips between, 
As snow are gleaming white ; 

And now, like a young gypsy queen, 
Dancing thou takest flight. 

If some rude boy but look on thee 
Thy cheek with crimson glows ; 

If he but speak straight thou dost flee, 
As pale as the primrose. 



Heyse. 



THE BROOK 

/~\UTLAUGHING with delight, 
^■^ The brook goes rushing by, 
Swift as an eagle's flight 

Athwart the azure sky ; 
Its dream is of the sea ; 
O'er locks and dams, in glee, 

It leaps with joyful cry. 

But down in yonder vale 

There waits a strong-built mill ; 
Its struggles naught avail, 

For, do whate'er it will, 
It has a master found 
Whose corn must all be ground, 

E'en though the waters spill. 

Lo now the headlong brook 
Has quiet grown and mild ; 

Lingering in many a nook 
It is no more beguiled 

By thought of worlds afar, 

But mirrors some fair star, 
Or face of gentle child. 



Heyse. 



SONGS OF THE DYING 
I. 

A ND again the fair sun gleams, 

And the meadows bloom again, 
And the fleecy summer clouds 
Sail athwart the deep-blue main. 

I lie out here on the green, 

And upward look through the trees ; 
Their boughs are stirred with music, 

While the birds sing and the bees. 

But to me their twitter and hum 

Bring no more the joy they brought : 

" Have ye come to sing farewell, 

O Nature' s sweet choirs, self-taught ? ' ' 

Who drinks of the foam of the cup 
Of the dregs must taste at last ; 

Who throws to the breeze his sail 
Must look on the broken mast. 



Songs of the Dying 

So will I, without complaint, 

Pay the debt which we all owe ; 

But who can hope abandon, 
If hope still smile on his woe ? 

My love is sitting beside me * 

With solace seeking to cheer ; 
But she turns away to weep ; 

Then good-bye, fair world, death 's near. 



II. 

Through the open window now 

The summer's sweet breath is blown, 

As gentle as mother's hand 

Caressing her child, — her own. 

The birds which the winter's frost 
Taught travel to southern skies 

Build under my roof again, 

And sing their blithe melodies. 

But the friends whom travel lures 
Are wandering east and west ; 

Ah, could I wander with them, 
I were all too deeply blest. 
124 



Songs of the Dying 

So often I roamed as I list, 

Nor knew the heavenly boon; 

Vain wishes now must teach me 
All that I lost in life's noon. 

Oh, if on my loved one's arm 
I might walk in the garden shade, 

Might look on the flowers in bloom, 
And scent the furrows fresh made. 

And oh for a breath of the woods, 
Of the cool moist woods once more ! 

What idle wishes awaken 

When death awaits at the door ! 



III. 

And I thought I could trust myself 
That the victory was quite won, 

But here steals hope's faintest ray, 
And again I am undone. 

As the worm to the blade of grass 
Clings amidst the hurrying stream, 

So clings love of life to hope, 
Though akin to despair it seem. 
125 



Songs of the Dying 

O spirit un dimmed, be strong, 
So canst thou conquer all dread; 

Thou 'rt able, I almost believe, 
From sleep to awaken the dead. 



IV. 

Round about was cloud-becurtained night, 
And amid' st the darkness and the dread 
I could hear the secret tread 

Of morning, bringing eternal light. 

Lo, on the black mantle is seen 

A star's soft silvery sheen : 

Little star, little star, showest thou the way 

To heaven's pure day ? 

Or leadest thou me to sorrow again, 
Leadest again through life's narrow glen ? 
Whatever befall, at least thou art, 
Star of Hope, life's better part. 

Holstein. 



126 



THE PLOUGHMAN SITS IN HIS 
CABIN'S QUIET SHADE 



HHHE ploughman sits in his cabin's quiet shade ; 

Within, his cheery hearth-fire brightly burns ; 
The traveller hears the evening bell 
Sound sweet as voice of one we love. 



The restful haven weary sailors gain, 
The city's busy hum in silence dies, 
In peaceful homes love lights his lamp, 
And happy hearts accordant beat. 

What would I have ? the life of man is toil, 
And the reward of work is grateful rest ; 
Why, then, must I forever seek 
Repose, and seek it still in vain ? 

In morning sky fair spring's sweet face is seen, 
The roses bloom in that bright golden world ; 
O purple cloud, take me, take me 
To your pure sphere of perfect peace, 
127 



The Ploughman Sits in His Cabin's Shade 

That all my love and grief may run to light ! 
Ah ! foolish prayer ! see how the charm has fled, 
While darkness gathers everywhere, 
And I am left alone with night. 



Come, then, O gentle sleep, too much the heart 
Desires : soon youth itself will fade away 
With all its fond and feverish dreams, 
And age will make me calm and wise. 

HOLDERLIN. 



128 



I STAND UPON THE SHORE 
WITH THEE, MY CHILD 

STAND upon the shore with thee, my child, 
In the obscurity of dying day, 
And listen to the moanings sad and wild 

Of waves, while thou seest but the star's pure ray. 

Like the dark ocean which before me lies, 
And wails and sobs, as in infinite pain, 

To heedless winds and to deaf, lowering skies, 
The life of man is sombre, restless, vain. 

Like the bright star which glistens through the night 
And is most radiant in the midst of gloom, 

Unquenchable in darkness infinite, 

Thy soul I see as fair as dewy bloom. 

But I, alas ! still hear the moaning sea 

Which bears upon its waves all human kind 

In aimless tossings and uncertainty, 

Victims of fear and doubt and fortune blind. 
129 1 



/ Stand upon the Shore with Thee 

Whither, O whither, are they sailing all, 
A soul upon each swelling billow's crest, 

As full of life as though they heard God's call, 
And onward to eternal glory pressed ? 

Hearken their mingled cries resounding far ; 

They knowledge seek, or wealth or love or fame, 
And eager stand like coursers in the car, 

And all intent like gamblers at their game. 

Whither, O whither, are they sailing all ? 

To lands whose rivers run with golden sand? 
To isles where lovers dream o'er waterfall ? 

To fields where glory crowns her sacred band ? 

Alas ! I hear life's sobbing ocean moan, 

And its deep voice is hoarse with all despair, 

As in its gloomy waves, with dying groan, 

Poor mortals sink with all their weight of care. 

Not to the land which gleams with golden sand, 
Not to the isles where happy lovers rest, 

Not to the fields where glory crowns her band, 
Do they sail on, O hapless souls unblest. 

From all its depths unfathomed life's sea cries 
In dull, unvarying voice, hoarse with despair, 

That whosoever lives next moment dies, 
An empty bubble bursting in the air. 
130 



/ Stand upon the Shore with Thee 

The flower that blooms, the ship that sails the seas, 
Then quickly fades, then strikes on hidden reef; 

The day that dawns, the rose that woos the bees, 
Then sinks in gloom, then sheds its faded leaf; 

The grass that 's green, the smoke that stains the sky, 
Then quickly withers, then melts out of sight, — 

These all proclaim that death is ever nigh, 
And overshadows all the realms of light. 

The mighty warrior with his armies brave, 

The woman fair with all her blooming charms, 

But minister to the devouring grave, 

And captives fall in death's all-conquering arms. 

While thus, my child, I listen to the waves, 
And hear their voices hoarse with all despair, 

Thy stainless brow the star-gleam gently laves, 
And thou seest joy and gladness everywhere. 

Ah ! hold thine eyes thus ever to the light 

That shines from heaven upon our darkling way ; 

Keep still thy spotless soul within God's sight 
Waiting the dawn of his eternal day. 

Hugo. 



131 



ONCE WHILE I STOOD WATCHING 
THE BILLOWY SEA 

/^\NCE while I stood watching the billowy sea 
^■^^ I saw a full-rigged ship go by, 
Enwrapped in waves and in obscurity, 
Sailing beneath a starlit sky. 

And as I peered into the heavens deep 
Which leaned upon the abyss below, 

A voice fell on my ear as when in sleep 
We hear words spoken long ago. 

"Poet, 'tis well, poet with the sad brow, 
Thou dreamest near the unquiet waves, 

And the dark ocean's depths thy thought doth plough, 
To search the mysteries of its caves : 

The sea, 'tis God, whom joy and woe proclaim, 
Whom destiny names and points out ; 

The mind, 't is God, and God the stars that flame, — 
The ship is man tossing in doubt." 

Hugo. 



132 



NIGHT TO OCEAN 

T TOW many sailors true, how many captains bold, 

Starting upon their distant course all light of heart, 
Have vanished utterly through the horizon dark : 
How many too have helpless sunk — O fortune hard — 
Into unfathomed waves, beneath a moonless sky, 
Buried forever out of sight in ocean's depths! 

How many masters dead with their ill-fated crews ! 
The hurricane has rent the page of all their life, 
And with a breath has scattered it far on the seas : 
No one shall ever know their end in the great deep ; 
Each passing wave has seized remorseless on its prey ; 
This the frail boat has crushed, and that the sailors 
whelmed. 

Not one knoweth your fate, poor heads abandoned, lost ; 
Under the waves ye roll across the sombre plains, 
Striking your bony skulls against harsh-grating rocks : 
How many parents old, who had but one dream left, 
Have died waiting through weary days upon the shore, 
Waiting for you ; for you, alas, who never came ! 
i33 



Night to Ocean 

In village gatherings they sometimes speak of you : 
Sitting on rusted anchors, many a circle gay 
Still mingle for awhile your names, O vanished shades, 
With laughter free and song and tale of adventure, 
With kisses stolen from the fair you left behind, 
While you, poor souls, forever sleep in oozy slime. 

Friends ask : Where are they now ? Are they kings in 

far isles ? 
Have they abandoned us for distant shores more bright ? 
Then thought of you is buried in forgetfulness ; 
You sink in waves, your names are lost to memory. 
Time, which on every shadow casts a deeper shade, 
Upon the sombre ocean throws oblivion. 

Soon from the eyes of all your image fades away : 
Has not this one his bark, and this other his plough ? 
Alone in the dark nights, when storms like demons rage, 
Your widows with white hair, weary of waiting long, 
Speak still of you with love, while they the ashes stir, 
The ashes stir, of hearths and hearts all desolate. 

And when their eyes at last are closed by death's chill 

hand, 
No lips will whisper more your names ; not e'en a 

stone 

i34 



Night to Ocean 

In narrow bound of churchyard where the echoes sleep ; 
Not e' en a willow green whose leaves the winter steals ; 
Not even the poor beggar's dull and plaintive song, 
Who pleading asks for alms at turn of ancient bridge. 

Where are those sailors all who sank in unknown deeps ? 
O waves, ye know dark and lugubrious histories ! 
Black waves, at thought of which mothers shudder 

with fright, 
Ye tell them to yourselves when riding up the tides : 
'T is this that makes those voices so despairing sad 
Which wail in evening winds, when you roll toward 

the shore. 

Hugo. 



'35 



FAIR MAIDEN, LOVE IS LIKE 
A MIRROR BRIGHT 

in* AIR maiden, love is like a mirror bright, 

Wherein of thine own beauty thou hast sight, 

And lingerest glad or in sweet reverie : 
Or like to virtue when from forth thy heart 
It drives all evil with its fiery dart, 

And keeps thy soul in whitest purity. 

One step below, — thou stand' st in slippery ways, — 
' T is an abyss where nothing steadfast stays, 

A seething whirlpool, dark and foul and vast : 
Love is delightful, pure, but fatal too ; 
It is a child whom smoothest waters woo, — 

He sees himself, leaps in, and drowns at last. 

Hugo. 



136 



IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH 

TJOWEVER high our thought may be, 

However warm the heart's strong beat, 
In death's shadow we all must see 
That life of man is but deceit. 

Gold quickly there is turned to dross, 
The teeming earth becomes a tomb ; 

The sweetest gain is simply loss, 
The sun itself is hid in gloom. 

Position, fame, honor, and power 

As childish toys are worthless grown : 

Art, science, and great poet's dower 
Are but sick fancy's dream alone. 

Love only stays and drops a tear, 

Sitting in sorrow by the bed ; 
But when we lie upon the bier 

He too will soon forget the dead. 

Jensen. 



*37 



AGE AND LOVE 

T TE best has felt and seen 

How fair man's life may bloom 
Whose age still fresh and green 
Is filled with love's perfume. 

No beauty hides from him 

Of all the world e'er saw, 
Who, though his eyes be dim, 

Sees love still without flaw. 

The summer goes away, 
The field is full of sheaves, 

O spring, that stay'st for aye, 

O flower world dressed in leaves. 

The autumn comes to end, 

The trees all naked stand, 
But my gray head I bend 

Over the lily hand. 



Jensen. 



138 



NOT EVERY DAY DOTH THE 
SUN SHINE 

"\JOT every day doth the sun shine ; 

What thou wouldst have 's not always thine ; 
Not always mayst thy sweet will do, — 
Old homely proverbs these, and true. 

We learn them first from mother's lips, 
And time confirms them as it slips ; 
But heedless youth will lightly hold 
Such truths, by whomsoever told, 

And laugh in his sweet month of May 
Until the blossoms fall away, 
The biting frost nips the green leaves, 
And life his fond hopes undeceives. 

Then these old proverbs come again, 
And we no longer find them vain, 
But take them to our inmost heart 
And from them nevermore depart. 

Jensen. 



139 



IN A DARK GLEN I LAY 

TN a dark glen I lay, 

All sad and all alone, 
When on me fell a ray 

In which my home was shown. 

I saw my youth's sweet home 
'Mid fragrant meadows lie, 

Beneath the azure dome 
Of gentle spring's soft sky. 

What golden light was there, 
What fairest flowers' bloom ! 

My dream melted to air, 
And all was deepest gloom. 

Then I through deserts strayed 
Seeking the vanished years, 

Which still forever fade 

From eyes blinded by tears. 



Kerner. 



140 



THE DOCTOR'S WALK 

A T midnight oft I go, 

Lost in vague reverie, 
To where some lamp's faint glow 
Tells there the sufferers be. 

In through the window-pane 
I look, and call to mind 

The remedies again 
I vainly sought to find. 

A rustling sound I catch 
Within close to the door ; 

A dead man lifts the latch 
And silent scans me o'er. 

My dog with angry bark 

Forbids the unwelcome guest, 

While I pass in the dark 
By memory oppressed. 



Kerner. 



141 



A BATTLE HYMN 



T^ATHER, on thee I call ! 

The smoke of battle rises like a cloud 
And roaring cannon make the heavens loud : 
Thou battle-leader, thee I call, 
Father, lead thou me on. 



Father, lead thou me on : 
Lead me to victory, lead me to death, 
Thou art my God, of thee I hold life's breath : 

Lord, as thou wilt, lead thou me on ; 

My God, thee I confess. 

My God, thee I confess : 
As in the awful rush of the cyclone, 
So in the storm of battle's thunder-tone, 

Fountain of good, thee I confess ; 

Father, uphold thou me. 

Father, uphold thou me : 
Into thy hands my life I freely give, 
Thou mayst it take, as thou alone mak'st live ; 

Eternal God, uphold thou me ; 

Father, thee I do praise. 
142 



A Battle Hymn 

Father, thee I do praise : 
It is no battle for mere earthly good ; 
The holiest defend we with our blood, 

Then dying, conquering, thee I praise ; 

God, thee myself I give. 

God, thee myself I give : 
If death come now to me in battle's storm, 
If on the plain be cast my lifeless form, 

To thee, my God, myself I give : 

Father, on thee I call. 

Korner. 



H3 



LOVE BUILT HIMSELF, THE 
FOOLISH CHILD 

T OVE built himself, the foolish child, 

' A house of fresh green leaves and flowers, 
And dreamed that there when storms are wild, 
Safe-sheltered, he should spend the hours. 

But breath of single autumn night 

Killed his fond hope and left despair, 

Bearing his house with rapid flight, 
Both roof and pillars, through the air. 

And now he wanders all alone 

Weary to death through worlds quite dead, 
And gathers of his bliss, wind-blown, 

Dry leaves from out the torrent's bed. 

Kletke. 



144 



EARLY GRAVES 

HHHOU art welcome, O silvery moon, 

Holiest and sweetest companion of Night ! 
Dost thou flee ? Thought-kindling power, remain. 
Lo ! she stays. 'T was the passing cloud that moved. 

What is fairer than such a night, 
Save the blooming May awakening, 
When the pearly dew drips from her locks 
And with blushes she rises to walk the hills? 

Ah ! the grass on your graves is deep, 

O noblest and tenderest, whom erst I knew ! 

How blissful was I when with you I saw 

The reddening daybreak and the shimmering night ! 

Klopstock. 



MS 



IN ETERNITY 

T TER love for him was deep as the deep sea, 
Tender and true as woman's love may be. 

To make him happy was her all of life, 

As though she had been born to be his wife. 

A month had not yet looked upon their bliss 
When Death seized her and gave his fatal kiss. 

Before she died one word she sought to say, 
But ere she spoke her soul had flown away. 

Long years he lived, nursing his heart's deep woe, 
Through many summers, many winters' snow. 

Her image always swam before his eye 

With that last look she gave with her last sigh. 

Then he too died, and entered heaven's gate, 
With all his thought still fixed on his sweet mate. 

And when at last they met, from death now free, 
She spoke this earthly thing, — " Remember me!" 

This was the word that she had sought to say, 
And which she kept for this eternal day. 

Kuh. 
146 



IF ALL WERE SWEET AND FAIR 

TF all were sweet and fair, 

Accordant with thy will, 
And God gave thee no share 

In all the boundless ill, 
How couldst thou learn to die, 

O child of mortal race ? 
How wean thy loving eye 

From earth's too winsome face ? 

But now from life's fair tree 

The leaves fall one by one, 
That thou the heavens mayst see 

And know thou art God's son, 
Borne on time's ebbing wave 

To everlasting day, 
And passing through the grave 

To where Peace stays alway. 

La Motte Fouque\ 



147 



CONTENTMENT 

/^\N rocky cliff a tree 

^■^^ Stood, blooming there, 
Like soul from sin all free 
And from all care. 

Its leaves were brightest green, 
Its flowers were red ; 

So, earth and sky between, 
Its life on sped. 

" How canst thou be so strong, 
So fresh and fair ? 
To earth all trees belong 
More than to air." 

To me it answer made, 
Rich with perfume, 

And pleasant as the shade 
Of its sweet bloom : 

€C No soft, cool bed have I : 
I stand alone ; 
The rock is hard and dry, 
My seat a stone. 
148 



Contentment 

" Nathless me happy deem, — 
' T is well with me : 
The first, the last sunbeam 
I here still see. 

" If other trees than I 
Have more of earth, 
None have so much of sky, 
None higher birth." 

Laurillard. 



149 



FAIR HESPERUS, 'MID PALEST 
LIGHT 

T^AIR Hesperus 'mid palest light 

Looks through the darkling sky again ; 
Another day has sunk in night 
And in the quiet grave has lain. 

Soft evening clouds float in the air, 

And through them silvery moonbeams shine : 
The pure white roses they do bear 

For the dead day a wreath to twine. 

O resting place of vanished days, 

Dumb, silent, and unchanging past ! 

With thee the heart's deep sorrow stays, 
With thee its joys too sweet to last. 

Lenau. 



150 



THE HOUR OF PITY, MERCY'S 
HOUR 

THHE hour of pity, mercy's hour, 

Comes with the peaceful, calm-faced night, 
When on the thirsty, wilted flower 

The dew falls from the heavenly height. 

The time of moon, the time of star ; 

This is the pure untroubled time 
When springs soft yearning for the far, 

From out this vale of grief and crime. 

E'en though thy heart in heat of day 
Strove with thy brothers rude and wild, 

The night thy anger drives away, 
And makes thee gentle as a child. 

The soul, doubt-fretted, then regains 

Its sanctuary and believes ; 
Then love's fair flower from dusty plains 

Looks up and opens all its leaves. 



The Hour of Pity, Mercy's Hour 

Then longing stirs to quench the hate 
Whose poison rankled in thy breast. 

O hurry to thy foe, and straight 
Awaken him from slumberous rest, 

To say, the tears of this blest night 

Have washed the wrath from out thy soul, 

And to thy eyes restored clear sight, 

And love, which maketh sick men whole. 

Lenau. 



152 



O LAYS OF MINE WIND-BLOWN 

f\ LAYS of mine wind-blown, 
^^^ Ye fall upon the earth, 
Leaves of a tree alone 

Which to no bloom gave birth. 

O leaves wind-blown and dry, 

Ye show the winter near : 
Fall soft, — on graves ye lie 

Of many hopes once dear. 

Leuthold. 



i53 



THE BLACK DEATH 

OHUDDER, O World ! I am the Pest: 

I visit every land, 
On every home my seal is pressed, 
By lips of Death my cheek ' s caressed, 
And murderous is my hand. 

From Asia's strand forward I sweep, 
Through murky heavens flying ; 

In Mecca, where the pilgrims keep 

Their vigils, I my harvest reap, 
And watch the living dying. 

O'er hill and vale and mountain high 

With palmer's staff I go, 
Turning about my hungry eye ; 
Wherever human dwellings lie 

I make a house of woe. 

The greatest of Death' s captains I, 

The fatal foe of all; 
Famine and war follow my cry, 
And mothers wail when I pass by, 

Throwing on earth a pall. 
i54 



The Black Death 

There is no help. To fly is vain, 

I am more swift than wind ; 
My breath blows over the wide plain, — 
Lo, countless multitudes are slain 

And in their coffins shrined. 

The merchant brings me in rich wares 

To deck his blooming wife ; 
He laughs and drinks, for nothing cares ; 
Then from his satin-cushioned chairs 

I rise and take his life. 

No rock-built castle is too high 

For me, no hut too low ; 
Upon youth's downy cheek I sigh, 
And with the bloom of health forth fly, 

Leaving behind Death's woe. 

The eye on which my shadow falls 

Will never more see light ; 
The wine I pour is flat and palls, 
My food is meat for cannibals, 

And all I touch I blight. 

In Tartary I slew the khan ; 

In India's perfumed isles 
Killed negro prince and Mussulman ; 
And through the night in Ispahan 

The dog the corpse defiles. 



The Black Death 

Byzantium was a city fair, 

And Venice like a dream ; 
Now wails resound through mournful air, 
Ungathered is the full ripe pear, 

And loud the vultures scream. 

In the far north amid hoar frost 

A noble harbor lies ; 
There I a ship with storm uptossed 
And made of all a holocaust, 

Glutting my cruel eyes. 

In all the streets lie dead on dead, 
While days and months go by ; 

As from the desert, life has fled. 

In after years it shall be said, — 
Death's city here we spy. 



LlNGG. 



I 5 6 



I AM CONTENT TO LIVE WITH- 
OUT ALL FAME 

|" AM content to live without all fame ; 

To win applause of men is not my aim ; 
Not like a bird sing I a happy song, 
But fraught with deepest yearning my notes throng. 

Who hears my voice knows the sweet bliss of tears, 
And feels the peace which sorrow but endears ; 
The world to me is deaf, — heeds not my cry, 
And things it loves by me unloved pass by. 

So must it be or I must silent grow, 

For I can sing but what I love and know ; 

In midst of gloom my soul dwells in the light, 

As mother-breast of stars is the deep night. 

Lorm. 



*S7 



WHERE'ER SWIFT THOUGHT CAN 
FLY 

"YX WHERE'ER swift thought can fly 

Are sorrow, guilt, and pain, 
And fleet time passing by 
Divides all things in twain. 

In little space between 

Lies dream of love and bliss, 

Which hardly can be seen, 
So airy thin it is. 

Lorm. 



158 



DREAMING I WANDER THROUGH 
THE BOWERS OF SPRING 

*p\REAMING I wander through the bowers of 
spring, 

And look into the wide, wide world ; 
Fled is all sorrow, trouble, suffering, 

And joy's bright banners are unfurled. 

O glorious Nature, in thy beauty dressed, 
Like love's pure glance is flight of time; 

Thou art still she whom to my heart I pressed 
In my fond youth's fresh, dawning prime. 

This is the fragrant breath that on me blew 
When I a child through meadows went ; 

This is the same ethereal, mystic hue 

Which with my sweetest thoughts was blent. 

O thou most wonderful, most gracious, fair ! 

No word, I know, can touch thy heart ; 
For all our joy and all our bitter care 

Still dumb and feelingless thou art. 
i59 



Dreaming I Wander through the Bowers 

Ever thou sayst : " I rage and I am meek ; 

I bring the night, make new day start ; 
I feed the nettle, paint the rose's cheek : 

Why praise ? To me nothing thou art." 

E'en so, — with deepest love I see thy face, 
And with glad soul to thee draw nigh ; 

Nature, how canst thou wear so sweet a grace 
And yet be dead to sympathy ? 

Milow. 



160 



THE FALL OF THE LEAVES 

HHHE naked boughs in the chill air 

Hung trembling, and the autumn blast 
Which stripped them of their beauty bare 

Howled mocking as it onward passed, 
Like demon who no pity knows, 
But laughs in scorn of mortal woes. 

A youth upon whose pallid cheek 

The hectic flush had set death's mark, 

By suffering made sad and meek, 

Walked slowly through the growing dark, 

And looking on the woods' decay 

Poured forth his melancholy lay : — 

" O Woods, where I so oft have strayed 
In my fair boyhood's happiest hours, 
Or lying in your leafy shade 

Have dreamed of love's immortal bowers, 
Where are those days, where are those dreams 
Which life uplit with heavenly gleams ? 

161 L 



The Fall of the Leaves 

" Ah, here the sweet birds sang for me, 
And purling brooks made music clear, 
And my young soul was strong and free, 

And joy forth beamed through every tear, 
While all my thoughts were pure and fresh 
As laughing girls when hearts they mesh. 

" Are ye, like me, O Woods, grown sad, 
Stretching your arms above the grave 
Of all that made you fair and glad, 

While at your feet the mourning wave, 
That babbled erst its merry song, 
Now silent flows dead leaves among ? 

" For you the spring will come again, 

And kiss your boughs till they outbloom ; 
For you will fall the gentle rain 

To wake your children from the tomb ; 
To you again the birds will come, 
And bees among your flowers will hum. 

" But I, oh, nevermore shall see 

Your purple buds break into green, 
Never rapt in sweet reverie 

Shall dream your leafy boughs between, 
Nor hear glad song of bird or brook, 
Lying at ease in shady nook. 
162 



The Fall of the Leaves 

' Death on my cheek his breath has blown, 

The bud is nipped, the fruit is dead ; 
The hopes I lived by, — all have flown, 

And soon the shears will clip life's thread : 
O bitter grief, O boundless woe, 
That you remain, and I must go ! ' ' 

Millevoye. 



163 



A LITTLE PINE SOMEWHERE 

A LITTLE pine somewhere 

In the deep wood is growing; 
In garden fresh and fair 

A rosebush now is blowing : 
They both above thy grave 
Their branches soon shall wave. 

In green meadow somewhere 
Two black steeds grazing feed, 

Or sniff the morning air, 

And bound away with speed : 

With measured step and slow, 

Soon to thy grave they '11 go. 

Moricke. 



164 



A SONG, A SONG 

A SONG, a song ! 

Amid these songs so full of pain, 
A lark's song of delight; 
A clear spring morn glistening through rain, 

And through fresh dewdrops bright ; 
A song, a song where laughter rings 
And pearly tears to glad eyes brings, — 
This is, 'mid these May carollings, 
The song I would indite. 



For thou art mine and I am thine, — 

What time-worn notes are these ? 
But lovers and their love divine 

No other sounds so please. 
O each to each, we both belong, — 
How shall I end this tender song, 
How my pure yearning still prolong, 
Until I find heart' s-ease? 

165 



A Song, a Song 

Then fly, just as thou art, fast fly, 

O song, my love to greet, 
And on her table gently lie, 

Or better, at her feet ; 
And sing and tell her how I pine, — 
O thou art mine, and I am thine, — 
And kiss her eyes and mouth so fine 

Until we two shall meet. 

Niondorf. 



166 



TO WHOM ALL PAIN IS LIFE 
AND LIFE ALL PAIN 

r I ^O whom all pain is life and life all pain, 

The anguish I have felt he too may feel, 
Who in a moment vanish sees all weal 
So soon as he begins to think it gain ; 

Who groping through a labyrinth in vain 

Seeks outlet which no searchings will reveal ; 
To whom love never comes with soft appeal 

But black despair follows with iron chain ; 

Who every lightning-flash to strike him dead, 
And every stream conjures to drown his woes ; 

Who their dark resting-place envies the dead, 
Where torture cannot wake them from repose, 

And love no more his poison drops can shed, — 
He feels like me, and me he wholly knows. 

Platen. 



167 



I FAIN WOULD KEEP MYSELF ALL 
FREE 

I. 

T FAIN would keep myself all free, 
Deep hidden from the world away, 
And along some quiet stream I'd flee, 
Shaded by trees from the sun's ray ; 

Would from the dull earth gladly rise, 
By songs of summer birds beguiled, 

And mingle with the azure skies, 
Far from the crowd by sin defiled ; 

Would seldom touch upon the shore, 
Nor even then my bark would quit, 

But pluck a rose, holding the oar, 

And straight 'long liquid path onflit; 

Would see afar the cattle graze, 
The flowers bursting into bloom, 

The vintagers in evening rays, 

And mowers 'mid the hay's perfume. 

Would nothing crave but the pure light, 
And from the wave my thirst to slake, 

And stars to comfort me by night, 
Amid a sleeping world awake. 
160 



/ Fain would Keep Myself all Free 

II. 

What meaning in this childish fear, 
This idle wish and wholly vain ? 

To thee the world will still be near ; 
Then overcome it, and so reign. 

E'en couldst thou put it far away, 

Yearning would drive thee back again; 

Learn then to love men, with them stay ; 
Thus only canst thou cure thy pain. 

The flower withers and then dies, 
The child will grow to be a man ; 

The soul is deep as the deep skies, 
And the abyss thou canst not scan. 

Thou see'st it, yet thou passest by, 
In life's all-earnest, eager chase ; 

On fair days dark days follow nigh, 
And in the end none win the race. 

As through the heavens swims the moon, 
Now bright and now dipt in a cloud. 

So changes still thy life's sweet boon, 
Until thou sleepest in thy shroud. 



Platen. 



169 



WOMAN'S LOVE 

A woman's love is like a spring, 
1 *■ Which, if the ice in fetters bind, 
To the first sunbeam's kiss will fling 
Its waters pure and unconfined. 

A rosebush like is woman's love, 

Which, if the north wind rob its bloom, 

When spring's first breath its head above 
Is blown, upfills with rich perfume. 

A woman's love is like a star, 

Which, if a thousand times it shine 

In vain, still watches from afar, 

Till the beloved shall seek its shrine. 

Plonnies. 



170 



SUNDAY MORNING 

HTHROUGH valleys ringing clear 

The tones of bells and song 
Fall softly on my ear, 

And, shady walks along, 
The sunbeams gently play 
On this sweet Sabbath day. 

Through quiet fields now see 

The crowds, in gay attire, 
Moving like children free 

To where the cross-crowned spire 
Looks on the peaceful plain, 
Clothed with, rich golden grain. 

How calm the waters flow ! 

How still the flowers seem ! 
While from the long ago 

There steals a blissful dream : 
Again I am a child 
Beside my mother mild. 

Robert Reineck. 



171 



ALL THINGS ARE NOW AT REST 

A LL things are now at rest, — 

Man's heart, the earth, the air, 
And the flowers are caressed 

By the brooks which through them fare. 

The silvery moonbeams fall 

Soft as the white snowflake ; 
In the wide world, of all 

Alone I am awake. 

Deep peace is in my soul, 

Nor joy nor sorrow there ; 
Like needle to the pole 

I turn to thee, my fair. 

Thy image still I see 

In sky and limpid stream ; 
By day my song of glee, 

By night my love-lit dream. 

RODENBERG. 



172 



THE LOST SONG 

T17ITHIN I often hear 

Soft notes of a lost song, 
Which fall upon my ear 
In rich melodious throng. 

To match its music I 

Seek words, but seek in vain, 
And when I come to die 

I still shall hear the strain. 

ROLLETT. 



m 



SEEK YE FOR TREASURES RICH 
AND RARE? 

A/TOUNTAINS and hills and vales between, 

A merry song my guide, 
I wander over meadows green, 

The gurgling brooks beside. 
Dull sorrows all have flown away ; 

O sweet sunshine, 
To-morrow will not come to-day, 

The present hour is mine. 

Upon my cheek the golden light 

Falls like fair Nature's kiss, 
And through her veil serenest night 

Looks out upon my bliss. 
O roaming blest, eternal spring 

Of pleasure pure, 
Let thy bright waters to me bring 

For every ill the cure. 
i74 



Seek Ye for Treasures Rich and Rare? 

Far from the city's smoke I flee, 

Far from the crowded street, 
'Neath the blue sky and blooming tree 

I walk my bliss to meet. 
Glad welcome find I everywhere, 

In dale, on hill ; 
Where'er I rest, where'er I fare, 

I feel pure joy's deep thrill. 

So long as love of life shall bide 

With me as happy guest, 
This wondrous world, so fair and wide, 

Shall seem to me most blest. 
Seek ye for treasures rich and rare ? 

Oh, see them here, — 
On the green earth, in balmy air, 

To weary hearts so near. 

Roquette. 



WHEN LENGTHENING SHADOWS 
FALL 

"Y It 7HEN lengthening shadows fall 

From mountains towards the sea, 
Then souls hear love's soft call, 
And sink in reverie. 

When sea-gulls to the shore 

Fly from the billowy deep, 
Then feel I yearning sore 

Near those I love to sleep. 

In morning's glittering ray 

The traveller journeys on, 
But at the fall of day 

Homeward his heart is drawn. 

Ruckert. 



176 



FULL MANY A SONG I SING 

"FJ^ULL many a song I sing, 

Can sing whate'er you will, 
In many tones can ring 
The joys which pure hearts thrill, 
Yet love I but one lay, 
Would sing it all the day, 
And, singing, find it sweeter still. 

A shepherd saw I late, 
In fragrant meadow green, 

Where brooks to blithe birds prate, 
That sing their beauty's sheen. 
Upon his reed he blew 
A note clear as the dew, 
Which falls through summer night serene. 

A little now it rose, 
And then again it fell, 

Just as a zephyr blows, 
Then dies within a dell ; 

And still he found it sweet, 

And still he would repeat 
The air which held me like a spell. 

177 M 



Full Many a Song I Sing 

He blew his reed, and then 
He ceased and looked around, 

And then he blew again, 
Still lying on the ground, 

And watched, while he did blow, 
His lambs skip to and fro, 
In sweet accord with the pure sound. 

Ruckert. 



178 



NOT FOR THEE ALONE 



/^*REAT Nature's glories do not shine 
^* Merely, O man, to make thee fine ; 
For her own pleasure sometimes she 
Doth clothe herself in bravery. 



The nightingale most sweetly sings 
When sleep o'er thee its mantle flings, 
And fairest flowers from dreams awake 
Ere dawn of day begins to break. 

The butterfly will take her flight 
Where not an eye beholds the sight ; 
Rich pearls are hid in ocean's deep, 
And in dark mines the diamonds sleep. 

O child ! since both thy ear and eye 
Bring pleasures to thee pure and high, 
Grudge not thy mother what she takes 
When for herself she jewels makes. 

Ruckert. 



179 



A WISH 



OOMETHING wish and something love, 

Something hope must every heart, 
And some fear of loss must prove, 
And of pain must bear his part. 



Joy and pleasure he must find 

In some thing or great or small, 
Else his days, by idle wind 

Idly blown, like leaves will fall. 

Far from overweening pride, 

Far from indolent repose, 
May my life still widening glide 

Like a river to its close. 

RtJCKERT. 



180 



REST AT HOME 

T STOOD upon the height 

While the great sun went down. 
And saw the golden light 

On evening place her crown. 

The heavens distilled sweet dew 
Upon the earth's fair breast, 

And soothing tones stole through 
The world, lulling to rest. 

I said : O heart, feel thou 

The calm that 's everywhere, 

And with great Nature now 
In sleep drown all thy care. 

The flowers close their eyes, 
Bewitched in balmy dream ; 

The waves 'neath darkling skies 
Flow on in stiller stream. 

Now in her fragrant nest 

The sylph has laid her head, 

The dragon-fly 's at rest 
In his cool, reedy bed. 



Rest at Home 

The gold-chafer has sought 
His cradle in the rose ; 

And homeward now is brought 
The flock to quiet close. 

The lark, from upper air, 
Amidst moist clover sleeps, 

And the thick-wooded lair 
The deer from danger keeps. 

Now who a cottage owns 
In holy peace sits there, 

Hears the soft, loving tones 
Of wife and children fair. 

Ah, would I too might rest 
At home with those I love, 

As, in the leafy nest, 

The tender-moaning dove ! 



Kuckert. 



182 



WHEN MODEST EVE 

"YX THEN modest eve 

Her couch doth leave, 
And walks into the wooded vale, 

And clouds upglow with richer hue, 
And shepherds 'mid the falling dew 
Their flocks drive through the twilight pale ; 

When timid hare 
With cautious air 
Goes limping through the fragrant grass, 
And from the covert steals the deer, 
And stags come forth without a fear, 
And look about and onward pass ; 

When rustic clowns 
Wear flower crowns, 
And homeward move in happy throng, 
Upon their arms the rake and scythe, 
And reaper maidens brown and blithe 
Make music with sweet laugh and song ; — 
183 



When Modest Eve 

Then dreaming I 
Stand 'neath the sky, 
And, looking on the peaceful scene, 
Feel thrill of joy no words can tell, 
And from my eyes the sweet tears well 
Like dewdrops from the vault serene. 

To blackbird's song 
I listen long, 
And hear his evening hymn uprise, 
While 'mid the alder-bush's leaves 
The nightingale tells how she grieves, 
And in the sedge the plover cries ; 

Until I hear, 
Or far or near, 
No sound save droning beetle's flight, 
Or chirp of cricket short and shrill, 
Till silence comes and he is still, 
The last to bid the world good-night ; 

Till from the sky, 
With wakeful eye, 
The evening star with love looks down, 
Till all the heavens darker grow, 
And all the infinite worlds upglow, 
And night wears her rich-jewelled crown. 

Salis. 

184 



WHEN EVENING SOFTLY STEALS 
I FLEE THE NOISY TOWN 



W 



HEN evening softly steals I flee the noisy town, 
And silent walk alone through dew-besprinkled 

fields, 
Led by the yearning soul, 
And by sweet memory. 



The hues of setting sun in the horizon glow 
And tinge with gold the woods which crown the 
dusky hill, 

Where the gigantic arms 

Of windmills slowly turn. 

I lean against the lock and drink the meadow's breath, 
And watch the cattle stand knee-deep in the lush grass, 

While flowers weep pearly dew 

Over the dying day. 

The robin in the alder-bush chirps sweet good-night ; 
All else is still the leaf-embowered village round, 

Where the blue, curling smoke 

Uprises through the trees. 
185 



When Evening Softly Steals 

The dew more fragrant grows as waning twilight dies, 
And draws the veil of night over the dusky plain, 

While I with wistful gaze 

Look on the fading scene. 

Fair lands stretch far beyond the boundaries of sight ; 

But darkness fills the weary space which severs me 

From all my heart's sweet love, 

And tears of longing flow. 

Salis. 



186 



THE MIGHT OF FREEDOM 

A ND had they power mine eyes to blind, 
Could they thereby darken the sun ? 
E'en though in prison me they bind, 
Yet shall fair Freedom's work be done. 

And though my hand with chains be bound, 
Because the pen like sword it flung, 

Yet hand with pen shall still be found 
While faith lingers true hearts among. 

And though my word in silence dies, 

Or like a flickering flame expires, 
One tone God easily supplies 

In million-voiced thunder-choirs. 

Not all at once shall vanish spring, 

With sap and strength and sound and light, 

Because one bird has ceased to sing, 

Struck dead by hand of clownish wight. 

Sallet. 



187 



A CHILD, A STRANGER AND 
ASTRAY 

A CHILD, a stranger and astray, upclimbs 

With fresh young heart the glacier' s silver tower, 
Which lifts its gleaming front above the clouds. 
On that far height he will his father see, 
His fatherland, — there heaven will surely find, 
And entering at the open door, will be at home ; 
For there the sun each day relights his torch, 
And there the stars at night rest like a flock ; 
There stands the purple gate, uplifted high, 
Through which the shepherd drives them when day 

sinks, 
And leads them back again when morning springs. 
So mounts the child, — loses his way, sits lost, 
Sad and alone, alone amid the storm 
Which blows his whitened hair about his face, 
For suddenly, through fear, he has grown old. 
Acold he stays upon the icy crag ; 
No more can he descend where meadows sleep, 
Made sweet by breath of flowers, where erst he 

played, 

1 88 



A Child, a Stranger and Astray 

Nor see them e'en, for darkened is his eye, 
And the green earth below so distant lies, 
That human voice no more can reach him now, 
Not e'en a father's and a mother's voice, 
Who followed him with anxious care awhile, 
Then weeping looked upon his upward course, 
Until they sank away and dust became. 
This to the child a spirit softly tells, 
Who with him stays. Now night is near ; 
Dark clouds gather about, portending storm. 
O'ercome, he knows no more : how in ? how out ? 
How down ? save in the awful chasm beneath — 
Then golden wings sprout forth, and he again 
Swims in the air, and to his father flies. 
Whoe'er thou art, O man, thou art this child. 

L. Schefer. 



189 



IN LIFE'S FRESH EARLY MORN 
OF MAY 

TN life's fresh early morn of May 

I left my father's home, 
With all my glad youth's holiday, 
In unknown lands to roam. 

My whole inheritance I cast 

With joyous faith aside, 
And, pilgrim's staff in hand, I passed 

Into the world so wide. 

A mighty hope stirred in my heart 
And urged me on my way, — 

The road is plain, it said, but start 
And walk on towards the day, 

Until thou seest a golden gate, 

Through which thou need'st but go 

And earthly things will vanish straight 
And heavenly things upglow. 

Oft evening came and morn returned, 

But never stood I still, 
Nor saw the thing for which I yearned 

With my young-hearted will. 
190 



In Life's Fresh Early Mom of May 

Athwart my path high mountains lay, 

And torrents' swollen stream, 
But still I found or made a way, 

And followed still my dream. 

At length I reached a river's bank 
Which flowed fast towards the east, 

And in the flood, with courage frank, 
I leaped, nor feared the least. 

Forth swept I, floated on the wave, 

Far out into the sea, 
But still saw not the thing I crave, 

Nor found where it may be. 

Thither, alas ! no pathway leads, 
And heaven, deep blue and clear, 

Remains untouched by earthly needs, 
And There is never Here. 

Schiller. 



191 



TO QUIET VALE WHERE SHEP- 
HERDS STAY 

HPO quiet vale where shepherds stay, 

There came with each new-coming year, 
Just when the lark pours forth his lay, 
A maiden wondrous fair and dear. 

In that sweet vale she was not born, 
Nor whence she came did any know, 

And when she vanished like May morn, 
No one could tell where she did go. 

To feel her presence made hearts glad, 

So gentle was she and so fair ; 
And her high mien itself forbade 

That any should too boldly dare. 

Bright flowers and luscious fruit she bore, 
Brought from some happy far-off land, 

And ripened on some sunny shore, 
Where Nature is forever bland. 
192 



To Quiet Vale where Shepherds Stay 

To all a precious boon she gave, 

To this, fair flowers ; to that one, fruit ; 
The blooming youth and old man grave 

Had each what best his heart might suit. 



To her right welcome was each guest ; 

But when a loving pair drew near, 
To them she gave her richest, best, 

And thrilled them with her sweetest cheer. 

Schiller. 



i93 



MUCH DO MEN SPEAK AND MUCH 
DO THEY DREAM 

IV /TUCH do men speak and much do they dream 

Of the better coming days; 
To some far-off happy golden gleam 
They turn their thoughts always ; 
And the world grows old and again grows young, 
But Hope ever dwells its bowers among. 

By the cradle smiling and fair she sits, 
She gleams o'er the glad boy's head ; 

All brightly about the youth she flits, 
She prays by the old man's bed; 

And when in the earth we sink to rest 

We plant Hope's symbol on the grave's crest. 

Immortal Hope is no fancy mere 

Born of a sickly brain ; 
In the heart she speaks with accent clear, — 

Man's life is godlike gain ; 
And the words who doth hear will ne'er believe 
That sweet Hope the trusting soul can deceive. 

Schiller. 



194 



AH! FROM THE DEPTHS OF THIS 
DARK VALE 

A H ! from the depths of this dark vale, 
Where gloomy mists are born, 
Could I on wings high upward sail, 

Unto eternal morn ! 
There I behold the hills all fair 
For ever young and green ; 

could I cleave the bright, blue air 
And rest their peaks between. 

Celestial harmonies I hear, 

Tones of immortal love, 
And balmy zephyrs stealing near 

Breathe fragrance caught above ; 

1 see of golden fruit the gleam, 

Glowing 'mid sunlit bowers, 
And blossoms which undying seem 
Embalm the sacred hours. 
i95 



Ah ! From the Depths of this Dark Vale 

What joy upon those heights to dwell 

Where beauty never dies, 
To taste the bliss no words can tell 

Amid the infinite skies ! 
But a deep stream's dark, swollen tide 

Threatens with sullen frown 
That all who seek its waves to ride 

Shall in its waters drown. 



A trembling bark my eyes behold ; 

But, ah! no boatman's there. 
Enter without a thought ; be bold ; 

Its sails strong angels bear. 
Thou needest faith, thou must be brave ; 

The gods no pledges make, 
But the higher powers across the wave 

Thy soul to heaven will take. 

Schiller. 



196 



A WEDDING RING 



O 



H, I could never dream 

That the warm flowing stream 
In winter's breath 
Would freeze to death ; 



That little golden ring, 
Light as a feathery wing, 

Like a millstone 

Would soon be grown ; 

That after day so bright 
Would follow hopeless night. 

Illusion brief; 

O bitter grief! 



-6IEBEL. 



197 



A BLIND FATHER TO HIS CHILD 

AY thy soft hands upon my eyes, sweet child : 
Ah ! this is balm ; thou art so pure, so mild ; 
I feel each tender pulse's gentle thrill ; 
Stir not, but sit close to thy father still. 

Long years ago — I scarce believe it true — 
I had clear sight and saw the heavens blue, 
And sat out there, beneath the apple-tree, 
Gazing upon the scene in reverie. 

A sudden rustle, and, as quick as thought, 
I felt my eyes by two soft hands fast caught ; 
Ah ! well I knew the touch of those sweet hands, 
Which thus had closed my eyes with loving bands. 

It was thy mother, then a maiden fair, 
Who noiselessly had crept behind my chair : 
I guessed her name, she gave me the first kiss, 
And soon we tasted holy wedlock's bliss. 



A Blind Father to His Child 

When now thou lay'st thy hands upon my eyes 
I thrill, and feel again glad, sweet surprise ; 
It is as though the darkness fell away, 
And she stood there who lies in the cold clay. 

Oh, I could paint her features, line for line, 
As she looked, standing there in May's sunshine, 
Close by my side, beneath the apple-tree, 
While I gazed on her in rapt reverie. 

And now I feel thy hands upon my face 
I dream the gloom will soon to sight give place, 
And thy sweet mother, with a loving kiss, 
Will change my darkness to the light of bliss. 

Seidle. 



199 



NOTHING ABIDES 



o N ; 



me sorrow her heavy hand did lay ; 
greeted her, and soon she went away. 



Joy came, singing to me a mirthful lay ; 
I greeted him, and he too went his way. 

What shall I hope ? for what good shall I pray ? 
Nothing abides, all things do pass away. 

Siebel. 



O NATURE, PURE AND FAIR 

r\ NATURE, pure and fair, 
^^^ Around me everywhere, 
Be thou my gentle guide 
In all my wanderings wide. 

And when I weary am, 
Upon thy bosom calm 
Like a child I '11 sink to rest 
Upon a mother's breast. 

With thee I find repose, 
Will love thee to life' s close ; 
Lead thou me by the hand 
Up to God's better land. 

Stolberg. 



MY CATS 

HPHE first of May my cat gave to the world 
Six of the loveliest kittens you might see, 
May kittens all, snow-white, save their black tails. 
It was, in truth, an ornamental litter. 
The cook, however, — cooks are cruel all, 
And sweet humanity thrives not in kitchens, — 
Of all the six was bent on drowning five ; 
Five of my little, snow-white, black-tailed kittens, 
This wicked woman had in mind to murder. 
I taught her better sense, — may Heaven bless 
My tender heart ! Meanwhile these lovely kittens 
Grew fast as weeds, and gambolled in short time, 
With upraised tails, about my house and hearth; 
Despite the angry brow of thwarted cook 
They grew, and every night before her window 
They tried their voices, all in concert singing ; 
And I, as I beheld them prosper so, 
Did praise myself and my humanity. 
A year has passed, — my kittens are all cats. 
May-day is here, — how shall I truly paint 
The spectacle which now unfolds itself! 
From cellar to the garret my whole house, 



My Cats 

In every corner, is all filled with litters ; 

In chests and baskets, under stairs and tables 

There lie the cats surrounded by their kittens ; 

And the old mother — 't is unspeakable — 

Sleeps unconcerned in the cook's virginal bed. 

And every one of all the seven cats 

Has seven, think of it, young kittens, 

May kittens all, snow-white, save their black tails. 

The cook ' s insane, and I am powerless 

To calm the fury of this cruel woman. 

Them all, the nine-and-forty, will she drown, 

And I, myself, alas, have lost my head. 

Humanity, how shall I save thy honor ? 

What shall I do with six-and-fifty cats ? 

Storm. 



203 



DEATH'S WARNING 

FEEL, I scarce know what, — a pain, 
Uneasy sense of something wrong ; 
It goes, but still it comes again, 
As though to me it doth belong. 

When to another I would tell 

Its nature, words I do not find ; 
And so I say, "All will be well ; " 

But I am restless, unresigned. 

The world begins to look quite strange, 
And hope grows less from day to day ; 

Now, suddenly, I mark the change, 

And see Death coming straight my way. 

Storm. 



204 



BURY THY DEAREST LOVE 

T3URY thy dearest love; still thou shalt find 

Life must be lived, and, in the stress of time, 
Thy self-asserting self will battle on. 
This proved I lately in a crowd of friends, 
Where pleasant words to speech more charming grew, 
And I myself was not the stillest there. 
The wine shot pearls within the crystal glass, 
And, hammer-like, the blood beat in the veins ; 
All suddenly I heard amid the talk, — 
It was no vain delusion, though most strange, — 
From out the distance heard a quiet voice, 
Which, struggling painfully for utterance, 
Spoke in such tones that I shrank back afraid, 
" Why all this noise, since thou knowest I sleep ? " 

Storm. 



205 



MOTHER AND CHILD 

" \A7"^^ mother, do little sister's eyes 

Shine fair as the stars in the deep skies ? 
The golden balls are not so bright 
Which gleam in the tree on Christmas night." 

"Little sister's eyes, my child, so shine 
Because in them dwells Love divine ; 
He lights his torch in the pure of heart, 
And from their eyes sends his winged dart." 

" Sweet mother, I love thee, — look quick, and say 
If in my eyes too thou seest his ray." 

" Most surely, my child." " O mother dear, 
Thine own are than the sun more clear." 

Sturm. 



206 



WHO LOVES NOT WOMAN, WINE, 
AND SONG 



"W 



HO loves not woman, wine, and song 
Remains a fool his whole life long.'' 
Now in good sooth 
Is this the truth ? 



Who woman loves is seldom wise, 
And singers have their miseries ; 
And wine, I hardly need to say, 
To woe and folly leads the way. 

Then, fair soother, 

Doctor Luther, 
Whate'er a man may love or not, 
He is, it seems, but a poor sot. 

Strauss, 



207 



THE PILGRIM OF REST 

TV /TOST calm and still thou leadest, Night, 

Through space thy spheres of heavenly gleam ! 
Do there, above, dwell peace and light, 
While here all is a dream ? 

The high and consecrated hours 

Of holiest, tenderest sentiment 
Vanish, in strife with earthly powers, 
To shadowy element. 

The conqueror wears a withering crown, 

His glory is a death-wreath mere, 
Which he is hastening to lay down 
On life's lone, waste frontier. 

Thee seek I, Rest ! but thee, Repose ! 

Seek thy fair star in the pure sky ; 

'Mid darkness, wandering, and 'mid woes, 

Thy pilgrim comes to die. 

Tiedge. 



203 



THOUGH TEAR-BEDEWED THY 
PILLOW BE 

HPHOUGH tear-bedewed thy pillow be, 

And thy unrested eyelids ache, 
Soon thou shalt slumber soft and free, 
Where nevermore can care thee wake. 

Whate'er thy pain, be not afraid, 

Time swiftly flies to cut life's thread; 

Four small thin boards, if rightly laid, 
Will make the weariest heart a bed. 

A hand thou surely too shalt find 

To press thy tired eyelids down, 
And place sweet flowers, with ribbons twined, 

Upon thy coffin as a crown. 

Death stoops to bring release from pain, 
To give the rest which life denies ; 

No man so poor but he shall gain 

The wealth which comes to him who dies. 

Trager. 



209 



THE CHAPEL STANDS HIGH ON 
THE HILL 

HHHE chapel stands high on the hill, 

And looks into the vale below, 
Where laughing winds a sparkling rill, 
And shepherd lad his pipe doth blow. 

The bells toll sadly down the dale, 
The plaintive funeral chant is heard ; 

The shepherd boy's blithe notes now fail, 
And his young eyes with tears are blurred. 

They bear them to their mountain grave 

Who through the vale poured forth glad song. 

O shepherd boy, be strong and brave, 
For thee the bells will toll ere long. 

Uhland. 



THE SHEPHERD'S SUNDAY SONG 

HTHIS is the Sabbath day : 

I am in the wide fields alone ; 
But one bell more peals silvery tone, 
And all sounds die away. 

Adoring here I kneel : 
O sacred awe, mysterious air, 
As though spirits were bowed in prayer, 

To make with me appeal. 

The heavens far away 
Through depths serene and solemn peer, 
Seeming to long to come more near : 

This is the Sabbath day. 

Uhland. 



A CHILD'S DEATH 

" T 1[ 7HAT sweetest sounds are these I hear, 
From sleep awakening me ? 
See who it is, O mother dear, 
Who makes such melody." 

" I nothing hear and nothing see, — 
By dreams thou art beguiled ; 
No one makes music here for thee, 
My suffering, poor child." 

"It is no earthly tone I hear 

Which fills me with delight, 
But angels call with voices clear ; 
' O mother mine, good-night ! ' " 

Uhland, 



A MOTHER'S HEART 

A ROVING youth, with wanderer's staff in hand, 
His home regained from journeyings in far land. 

All travel-stained, his face scorched by the sun, 
From whom shall recognition first be won ? 

His dearest friend he met, entering the town, 
But he looked on him with unmeaning frown. 

Then moved he on, following the heart's sweet lead, 
To greet the maid whose love was life's high meed. 

Hard by her door she sat like blooming rose : 
He speaks, — alas ! she him no longer knows. 

He turned and brushed away the starting tear, 
And wandered farther still, he scarce knew where. 

But, as it chanced, he passed the church door by, 
Whence issuing his mother he did spv. 

" God's blessing on thee ! " — this was all he said. 
" My son J " — and on his breast she laid her head. 

Whatever change may come, a mother's heart 

Still knows her child, and at his voice will start. 

Vogl. 

211 



VAIN EFFORT 



"\T 7ITH earthen cup I sought to dip 

The living wave of crystal stream, 
But when I brought it to my lip, 
Flown was the heavenly gleam. 



Rich music in my heart I heard, 

Sweet as the breath of new-blown flowers ; 
But when my tongue with song was stirred, 

Gone were the heavenly powers. 

Volkman. 



214 



SUBLIME FOLLY 



O UBLIMEST folly ! — from their camps uprise 
Two mighty armies, eager for the fray ; 
The drumbeat rolls, the brazen trumpets bray, 
And guns and bayonets flash against the skies. 



Now shall be shown on which side victory lies ; 
Swords gleam, the booming cannon hurl dismay, 
The quick, sharp rifle-shots for death make way, 

On high the bird of evil omen cries. 

Men fell as in the field the full ripe grain 

When bending reapers swing the sickle's blade, 

In ranks they fall, never to rise again, — 

But wherefore the dread holocaust thus made ? 

That past all doubt man may make this truth plain : 
On honor, more than life, his heart is stayed. 



215 



